The Harbinger
by MyWhitelighter
Summary: When everyone loves a 22-year-old version of you that doesn't even exist anymore, it can try the patience of the born and bred Chris Halliwell of the changed future. At his wit's end, he casts a spell that might help him get to know the not-so-distant traveller that his family admires so, in some vain hope of trying to find in himself what they loved so much in his future.
1. Stirring

**Summary: When everyone loves a 22-year-old version of you that doesn't even exist anymore, it can try the patience of the born and bred Chris Halliwell of the changed future. At his wits end, he casts a spell that might help him get to know the not-so-distant traveller that his family admires so, in some vain hope of trying to find in himself what they loved so much in his future.**

**But, as there wouldn't be a story to tell if it didn't, it went wrong. Please R&R. :) **

* * *

**Chapter One: Stirring**

"No, Chris, come _on_ – you know Aunt Paige didn't mean anything by it," Wyatt persisted as he followed his brother down the hall to his bedroom. Chris tried not to let himself get more worked up than he already was; he would never be granted the dramatic storm-out he'd been vying for if Wyatt insisted on following him every time. It had always been clear which one of the brothers had inherited more of the Whitelighter pacifism from their father, and he'd overheard his mother on numerous occasions wishing he didn't have the same short temper that she did. Unfortunately for him, he couldn't exactly help his genetics.

Pointing at the door he did slam it telekinetically in Wyatt's face, but it took only seconds for him to hear the familiar jingle of his brother orbing in. "Mum hates orbing around the house," he snapped, just wanting something to dig at him for.

Wyatt only cocked a hand on his hip and gave him a pointed look. "How long are you going to keep this up? I'm beginning to think you've forgotten how to exit a room normally."

Chris rolled his eyes. "I don't want to talk about it," he let himself fall back onto his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. The last he wanted to do was to be forced into a 'deep and meaningful' conversation with his elder brother, especially since it was the one who did no wrong. Couldn't the Powers that Be allow him just _two_ minutes in which he could dislike Wyatt freely because he wasn't the good guy?

"Well you're going to have to sometime. Look, this is the fourth time this has happened this week, and I'm pretty sure I've worked out the common factor. You should –" The Witchlighter found himself cut off by a pillow hitting him in the face.

"That definitely wasn't an invitation for you to start talking about it," came Chris' moody response.

Wyatt pressed his lips together in mild irritation. He sighed, in a way that made him look just like their father, and Chris resented that – he still hadn't quite forgiven Leo for his offhand comment yesterday. Not that that was any of his brother's business either. Wyatt toyed with the pillow and scratched the back of his neck, wondering if he really should just let Chris be to cool off for a little while, but his instincts were telling him otherwise. If his suspicions were correct, the more time Chris spent bottling up his feelings the longer the problem would drag on for, and he had a feeling it wouldn't just go away; if anything, the closer Chris got to 22 the worse it would get.

"You can't keep shutting yourself away whenever anyone mentions him," he added hesitantly.

Chris bolted upright, fury evident on his features. "You think you know what the problem is? Well why don't you go downstairs and tell _them _the problem, then maybe they'll get it." Wyatt could sense a hint when there was one, and he opened his mouth to shoot out a comeback but Chris beat him to it. "Get out, Wyatt."

After a moment's deliberation, the Witchlighter sighed, dropping the pillow on the edge of the bed. Chris stared resolutely at the ceiling, more than ready to orb out if his brother refused to comply. He needn't have worried, as Wyatt simply exited the room and closed the door with a soft snap. Silence, for a few moments before Chris groaned in frustration. "Great. Now I have a guilty conscience." Irritated, he flung out an arm and a few picture frames dropped from the wall. There was only one that remained, a blurred shot of himself holding up a hand to try and block the camera. The picture that, bizarre as its nature seemed, used to bring him comfort was now the source of all of his resentment. "And I don't need _you_ judging me either, thank you very much." He waved his hand, and the frame disappeared in a swirl of blue and white lights.

* * *

Piper _liked_ to do household chores. Phoebe never understood it, Paige simply dismissed it, and Leo did his very best to understand but after however many years they'd been together fighting demons and wiping blood off their clothes, still believed it was a miracle that Piper still took some kind of minute pleasure out of turning the washing machine on each morning. What Piper liked about the dull hum of the electronic washer was not the habit it had of irritating her if she spent too much time in the kitchen, but instead how enticingly normal it was. No magic, no cleaning spells, no enchantments – just electricity and a lot of water. After all she'd been through, she couldn't be more glad that after everything she was still entitled to a singular electrical appliance that worked. Well, most of the time anyway.

"So how long is this going to take? Only I've got three pubescent children who will run out of clothes unless I can get a load on soon," Piper shook her head as she placed the laundry basket on the kitchen counter. "And I'm afraid we aren't those kinds of witches."

Leo held back a smile from where he sat, front half in the washing machine, spanner in hand as he tried to figure out the reason the washer wasn't, well, _washing_. "I couldn't say for sure – I mean, there doesn't _seem_ to be a problem. Or not an easily identifiable one, anyway. It should be working."

Piper raised an eyebrow from where she stood, and her husband felt like he could already read the 'well-it's-not' on her expression without him even needing to see her. "Come on Leo, you used to fix this sort of thing all the time. What am I paying you for?" She teased.

Leo poked his head out from underneath the washer and frowned in thought. "Endless love and devotion?"

Piper shook her head. "Nice try," she leaned down and rewarded him with a brief kiss for effort. "Fix it, please. I'm going to go check on Chris."

Leo's voice became muffled again as he moved back into the washing machine. "He's in his room," he called out as she was leaving the room.

"When did you regain the ability to sense?" She knew he hadn't really, but she was in a mood for banter.

Leo grinned. "That wasn't a Whitelighter sense, that was a father sense. Word on the street is he had another argument with Paige."

Piper sighed and scratched her neck, at a loss of what to do. "Another one?"

"Actually it was Phoebe yesterday, so says Wyatt. I'm starting to wonder if there might be something—ow!" There was a familiar clatter of metal on metal and a few muttered choice words coming from Leo as he withdrew from the appliance.

Piper raised an eyebrow. "I thought angels weren't allowed to swear?"

"Very funny." Leo straightened up and brushed the dust from the floor off his shirt, rubbing his head and feeling a bump beginning to grow there already. "But about Chris—"

"It's perfectly normal for a seventeen-year-old to feel a little bit anti-establishment, Leo. There's nothing to worry about," she gave him a pointed look, but he didn't look too reassured. Biting back what he wanted to retort, he instead started rummaging through the freezer to try and find an ice pack.

Finding one, he clamped it to the back of his head and winced slightly at the pain – he would make a comment about missing his instant healing power, but he'd gotten over that years ago and it wasn't as if he'd be able to heal himself. "But we never had this kind of problem from Wyatt," he added, worry lacing itself into his tone.

"Wyatt is nearly nineteen and far too much like you to argue with anyone about anything," Piper rolled her eyes, folding a few of the unwashed clothes before putting them back in the basket.

"Does that mean Chris is too much like you to listen to a word I say?" Leo challenged innocently, and Piper shot him a good-natured glare.

"You. Washer. Now. I'm going on Mum duty."

* * *

She was a little bit apprehensive of heading into Chris' room straight away (what kind of child loves their Mum coming into their rooms unannounced at the age of seventeen?) and stopped in her room first, steeling herself up for another temperamental argument. It reminded her of Big Chris – the old Chris, that is, the one from the distant future. The similarities between him and Baby Chris were becoming more prominent every day, including, regrettably, the constant arguments. On top of Big Chris' attitude, there were teenage hormones and heightened emotions to consider, and it was a wonder his telekinesis hadn't succeeded in throwing either his father or a Charmed One out of the manor altogether by now. Just as she was about to head down the hall, she noticed something on her bed that hadn't been there before. A simple photo frame, and she paused to pick it up and examine it for a moment.

What it was brought a smile to her face – her son, Chris, but aged 22. That would have seemed impossible to anyone who knew Chris as the seventeen-year-old he was, but this was of course a blurred image of the twenty-two-year-old she and her sisters had gotten to know and grown to love in his stint of coming back from the future to save Wyatt. Big Chris had never been keen on photos, but the girls couldn't resist when they found one of Prue's old cameras packed away in the attic and went on a photo taking spree. His pose was defensive, once he realised what they were holding and was holding up his hand in an attempt to stop it from being taken, which only added to his surprised expression and making it funnier.

_"You're not going to keep that, are you?" Chris asked, flabbergasted. Paige raised a challenging eyebrow and pursed her lips._

_"I don't see why not. You look cute!" Aside from being called 'cute', he didn't exactly like the idea of them having a photo like that._

_He gave her an unamused glance. "What if someone finds that in ten years and asks why you have a picture of me at that age already? Future consequences Paige, you've got to keep thinking about them."_

_She flapped a dismissive hand. "Consequences shmences, I'll have myself a picture of my adorable nephew if I want one, thank you very much. _You_ need to lighten up." She winked at him as she moved past him out of the room, tapping him on the cheek as she went._

_Exasperatedly, Chris turned back to Piper and Phoebe. "Mum, you can't let her do this."_

_"I think somebody's a little camera shy," Phoebe cooed as she too left the room after giving Chris a reassuring nudge._

_"Mum!" He protested._

_Piper shrugged. "I just don't see what the problem is," she offered him a sympathetic glance. "If it's any comfort, I'll make sure she never shows it to Leo." Making to go after her sisters, she knew Chris would follow._

_"That's not the problem."_

_"Or future girlfriends?"_

_"That's not the problem either."_

It brought a nostalgic smile at the old memories, but that didn't solve the puzzle of how it even got to her room. As far as she was aware, Chris usually kept it hanging up in his room. It had been a bit of a struggle trying to bring Chris round to the idea that they had met a future version of him before he had even been born, but as a child he always seemed to enjoy hearing about the various ways in which he'd saved the sisters and Wyatt as a baby. He knew that it had never been him – it had been Big Chris, obviously – but he used to take it as a small one-up on his brother, and Piper and Leo had never regretted telling him as it helped to erase some of his inferiority complex with the Twice-Blessed Child.

"Chris?" Piper offered through the door, the frame in hand as she knocked. She received an incomprehensible grunt from the inside she identified to be her second son. Poking her head around the door she saw him studying something in front of him, which she recognised instantly as being the yellowed pages of the Book of Shadows. "You shouldn't take that out of the attic you know." She kept the reprimand light, because he clearly wasn't in the mood to be yelled at.

He gave her a bored look, before turning the page again. "I'm doing research."

"Trying to find a vanquishing potion for Aunt Paige?" She smiled and tilted her head as she sat down on the edge of the bed, knowing she was goading him and knowing his attitude would likely get him irritated with her in no time.

He closed the book with an audible _thump_. "Wyatt is _such_ a rat," he groaned. "But no. It's for class, actually. Basic study of the Underworld." Piper didn't look impressed and Chris threw up his hands exasperatedly. "Ask Dad if you don't believe me!"

"Oh no, I believe you," Piper amended. "But it was open on the Past Life Spell." The spell that had once transported Phoebe back into the body of her past self. Caught, Chris said nothing and merely swallowed thickly. Tenderly, Piper placed the photo frame down onto the bed and gave Chris a soft smile. "You won't find him that way."

He gave one look at the photo and wished he'd orbed it into the middle of a volcano instead of down the hall. "I don't want to find him," Chris snapped, getting up from the bed and picking up the Book of Shadows. "I'm going to put the Book back."

"Chris –" Piper began, but he was already out of the room. Getting up to follow him, she tried not to let her irritation show through. _He's a teenager,_ she told herself, _this is normal_. "Chris, don't walk away from me. We need to talk about this!"

He shot her a look over his shoulder as he began to climb the stairs to the attic. "What's there to talk about?"

Taken aback, Piper followed him. "Well I don't know, you tell _me_! There's clearly something going on or you wouldn't be blowing up at your family every time we just try to talk to you."

"Just leave me alone Mum, I'm not in the mood." Biting back a retort, she slowed her pace up the stairs so he could get further ahead – she was never really in the mood, she was tempted to add, but that didn't mean she couldn't be worried. Only minutes earlier she'd been assuring Leo that nothing was wrong, and that everything was completely normal but even now she felt worry begin to constrict her chest and tie knots in her stomach. There was a time when Chris would tell her anything and everything in a heartbeat, and yet he was slipping away from her right in front of her eyes. Arguing with him never helped, and it sometimes ended up with a blown up vase back in her bedroom before Leo could calm her down. And the worst of it was that it wasn't getting better, either. The older he got and the more he should be growing out of it, the more impalpable the arguments became.

She reached the attic slowly and leaned against the doorframe, folding her arms as she watched him return the book to its stand, and he opened it absently. There was something troubling him, and she was concerned. Wasn't she entitled to that? "Please, Chris. I don't want to fight you. Just talk to me."

He looked up at her, and she could see the cogs visibly whirring behind his eyes, and after a moment's deliberation cleared his throat. "Fine," he muttered, turning back to the Book and turning the pages aimlessly. "Aunt Paige – Aunt Paige told me my hair looked better when it was long."

The admission threw her off-guard, and she stared at him bemusedly. "And the problem with that is?"

Chris rolled his eyes. "The problem is I've never _had_ my hair long. Or with a centre parting as she recommended, so the use of the past tense was a little out." It had always been short, brown and reasonably spiky. Piper still seemed to fail to understand, so he elaborated. "She was obviously thinking about Future Chris. Big Chris. He probably had his hair long at some point and that's how she knows how I look with my hair like that."

"I'm not sure I understand," Piper pushed away from the doorframe and stepped towards him, boots clacking on the creaky floorboards of the attic. Chris still refused to meet her gaze.

"I just feel like you all know everything about me before I get the chance to know it myself. Aunt Paige, Aunt Phoebe – even you and Dad sometimes."

Piper blinked. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Chris threw up his hands in frustration. "It _means_ that nothing is new for you! You knew exactly what I was going to be like before I was even born. You've met a twenty-two-year-old version of me, and that's hardly fair! With Wyatt everything was new, everything is a surprise, but with me you can second guess what I'm going to do before even _I_ know it."

Piper folded her arms, at a momentary loss for words – she'd dealt with sibling rivalry before, but this seemed to be a whole new kettle of fish. "It's called being a mother," she folded her arms. "I do happen to have seventeen years worth of memories of you, and I'd like to think that gives me a little insight into your personality."

"No," Chris corrected. "You've had _eighteen_ years worth of memories of me, and that's just the point."

"I don't understand what you're trying to say, Chris. What difference does it make? So what if we met a version of you a long time ago? We've met versions of Wyatt from the future too." She remembered the whole imaginary friend fiasco back when Wyatt and Chris were both babies.

Chris shook his head resolutely. "But that's different, because you don't prefer _that_ Wyatt to this one." Finally seemingly having hit the root of the problem Piper opened her mouth to shoot him down before the whole situation escalated any further, but at that point Leo chose to walk in the door with a concerned frown.

"What's going on?" He asked, looking between the two. "I heard raised voices."

Chris groaned. "Oh, great. Now Dad's here too. Why don't we just invite the whole Future-Chris-Preferring family and be done with it?"

"Chris this is ridiculous!" Piper cried in exasperation. "We don't prefer him to you, how can we? You're the same person!"

He was unperturbed and ignored her interruption. "And every day when I become more and more like him you're all reminded of the brave man who came back to save the future, and of how much you miss him – just the other day Aunt Phoebe told me I looked 'so much like Chris'. I _am_ Chris. How is that supposed to make me feel?" He stalked away from the Book's stand and over to the window, folding his arms. "You love how similar I am to him, and I only serve as a reminder of how much you all miss him."

Leo was indignant – not only was Chris seemingly trying to compare himself to himself, but he was also blaming them for something they couldn't help. But at the same time, he could almost see what his son was trying to get at; if it weren't for Future Chris, none of this happy life they led together would have even been possible, and yes, he did still miss the twenty-two-year-old on occasion, but he already _had_ Chris. Not to mention the fact that he'd known this one for seventeen years, and had grown to love him and care for him rather than having paternal feelings thrust upon him as they had on the day he found out about Piper's pregnancy.

"That's not true," he settled for saying – Chris was taking all of this the wrong way.

On realising that Leo was indeed present, his son rounded then on him and pointed an accusing finger at him. "You missed nearly the whole first year of my life because you were too busy being heartbroken and lost at the death of a version of me that didn't even exist anymore."

Leo narrowed his eyes. "That's not fair."

"This whole situation isn't fair!" Chris snapped, realising his voice was rising but not even caring. "I shouldn't be growing up with you all throwing these expectations at me! Every minute I get closer and closer to becoming his age, and I feel like the clock is ticking for me to decide whether I'm going to become him like you all want, or somebody completely different."

Piper intervened. "We don't want you to be him, Chris. He had a different life to you – we love you both for who you are and what circumstance has made you to be! It doesn't matter if you become like him or not."

Chris shook his head with a bitter laugh. "But he's a _hero_. And what am I? Your neurotic and irritating son who's a colossal pain in the ass, fights with his siblings constantly and makes your lives Hell. And yet, even while you tried to make _his_ life Hell, he saved your lives more times than you can count. He vanquished demons, protected you and preserved Wyatt's future. Mother of God, he even saved your _marriage_. How am I supposed to compare to that?"

"You don't need to!" Leo protested, but the whole back-and-forthing between the idea of two Chris' was starting to make his brain hurt. "You're both capable of the same kind of good he did, and we're just thankful you've never needed to do all that for us."

"If Future Chris grew up with a life like yours, do you think he would have needed to go back in time and change the past? He wanted to protect a family that was broken. If you'd lived his life, I have the utmost confidence that you would have done all the same things as he did." Piper added sincerely, trying to console him.

Chris' jaw was tight. He didn't quite know how to respond to this; they were right, of course they were right, but if they were then why didn't he feel better? Why couldn't he eradicate the feeling of complete insecurity that had bound itself to the deepest contours of his heart, and stop the burning desire to try and compete with _himself_? To try and earn the favour of the parents over a future version that had sacrificed his life to save theirs. How could they possibly prefer him when their other son had been through so much worse, and triumphed over so much more. Without him, half of the Halliwells would be dead right now – it was no competition. Chris knew who _he_ would prefer.

"Sure," he muttered, his voice devoid of emotion. "Whatever you say." Before Piper and Leo could interject further he was already orbing out, dissipating into the balls of light and with the familiar jingle Piper had come to associate with Leo back in the days when he had powers.

The two parents were silent for a moment, Piper reaching out a hand to rest on the stand holding the book, trying to ground herself. "What – what just happened?" She turned to her husband with a look of pure confusion, but Leo couldn't offer her any real answer.

"Chris being a little bit anti-establishment?"

* * *

Chris materialised in an apartment block corridor, having sensed beforehand to make sure that there weren't any unsuspecting mortals who weren't quite prepared to watch a Witchlighter orbing in. To his chagrin he was a little off, not quite appearing in front of the door he was aiming for, but when he reached it he rapped on it loudly with his knuckle. He shoved his hands in his pockets before changing his mind and folding his arms, before changing his mind again and running a hand through his hair to try and make sure he looked presentable. The door opened and he abruptly settled for having his hands at his sides as he took in who was behind it.

"Oh, Chris," the woman seemed surprised to see him. "Are you here to see Bianca?"

He nodded, trying to sneak in a look past her into the flat. "Uh, yeah. Is she in?"

Lynn smiled, and turned back into the house. "Bianca!" She called. "Door for you. Do you want to come in?" She asked him.

"Oh no, that's fine. Thanks." He settled for having his hands in his pockets and trying to look as causal as possible when the familiar brown-haired witch approached the door. Confusion overcame her, and she stepped towards the doorway a little apprehensively.

"Chris," she greeted hesitantly, before brushing some of her hair out of her eyes. "I thought your parents said you couldn't see me anymore."

He shrugged. "My parents say a lot of things," it was only then that he took in her appearance –a tight leather suit stretching from her neck to her thick black boots. She looked like something out of a superhero flick. "What are you wearing?"

She was unperturbed. "What are _you_ wearing?"

Despite himself, Chris looked down at his simple jacket and trousers. "Clothes," she didn't seem keen on elaborating any further and Chris' mouth morphed into a challenging grin. "Your turn."

The corner of Bianca's mouth perked upwards, and her eyes sparkled. "What do you want, Chris?"

Adopting a more serious expression, he looked around her to make sure her mother was nowhere to be seen. "I need your help." Bianca raised an eyebrow in question, waiting for him to continue. "I'm on a bit of a learning curve," he pulled out the carefully folded piece of parchment he'd subtly torn from the book, holding it up and revealing the Past Life Spell. "About myself."

Bianca eyed the parchment before turning back to the witch who was holding it with the ghost of a smile. "You better come in then, Whitelighter." Smiling gratefully, Chris stepped inside, and the assassin witch closed the door behind him with a foreboding click.

* * *

**I realise that Bianca is actually a few years older than Chris because of little-Bianca in Chris-Crossed, but for the purpose of this story she's going to be the same age as him – seventeen. Besides that teensy bit of creative license, this story's going to try and stay as canon as possible. So Leo has no powers but is Headmaster of Magic School, yada yada. Phoebe and Paige will be making appearances, as will Wyatt and Chris' little sister Melinda. Hope you liked the first chapter, I'll see if you guys are interested in more! R&R :)**

**~MyWhitelighter**


	2. Anticipating

**Hello again! :) Thanks so much for all your support on the first chapter, it was really encouraging to see your responses! Sorry this update is a little slow, but the chapter is ****_long_**** so I hope it kind of makes up for that. Please please ****R&R****, I love hearing from you guys. Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter Two: Anticipating**

Piper muttered profanities as she attempted to turn on the kitchen tap once more, to no avail. "I have a restaurant to run; I really do _not_ need this right now." The tap gave a gurgle in response, and she resisted the urge to throw up her hands in frustration – a dangerous action when you happened to be gifted with the power to blow things up with them. First the washer (which Leo had yet to fix, and it was only his pride she was trying to save by putting off calling a repairman), and now the kitchen sink. "What is this, a kitchen conspiracy?"

"I heard the word conspiracy, do I need to go check the Book of Shadows?" Came a concerned response from behind her and Piper jumped, accidentally shattering the ceramic plant pot Melinda had made at Magic School.

"Phoebe!" Piper chided, making to thwack her sister lightly on the arm as she began to pick up the pieces. "Oh, God. Just something else to add to the list of things going wrong today. And didn't I tell you that you and Coop aren't allowed to beam in unannounced?"

Her sister offered her an apologetic smile, and her brother-in-law simply cleared his throat awkwardly and headed for the next room. "Am I forgiven if I say I missed you?" She put her arms around Piper's neck in attempt to soften her hard exterior, but she was having none of it.

"At least orbs make a _jingle_ sound. Then I _know_," she scraped the pieces and the now done-for plant into the bin with a sigh. "As for our conspiracy, no – it's just my appliances having a mutiny on me the day I really need to go to work."

Phoebe frowned, confused. "I thought Coop and I were supposed to come by for lunch?"

Realising what she'd forgotten, Piper pressed a hand to her forehead. "Ugh, tell that to the Grimlock Wyatt and I vanquished yesterday, which made me miss that really important meeting with a supplier. If I keep this up, my chefs won't have any ingredients to even cook _with_." Phoebe's shoulders deflated subtly, but she waved a dismissive hand telling her sister she didn't need to worry. "I can't believe I forgot – I'm sorry Phoebe."

"It's alright, don't be silly!" She smiled, leaning against the counter with a wistful sigh. "Does make a girl miss living here, though. Vanquishing demons before breakfast – not to mention being close to you and Paige."

"Well you couldn't live here all your life, could you? Especially with Coop, and PJ on her way. And Wyatt and Chris appreciated the luxury of having their own rooms, believe me."

"I know, I know. I just miss it," Piper offered her a comforting smile and took her hand, briefly giving it a reassuring squeeze. Just as she was about to turn back to the sink to try and see what could be done, she heard the familiar orbing sound come from the corner of the kitchen.

She turned back to Phoebe with raised eyebrows. "See? Jingle."

"Mum, are you busy?" Turning to look at her eldest son, Piper sighed. When was she ever _not_ busy? It didn't matter how many times Phoebe called her Super-Mum, she was always overwhelmed with something to do.

She threw a final look at the tap that wouldn't turn on, and gave up. "As long as someone calls your father and tells him he needs to fix the sink for me," she added with a note of resigned finality. "What do you need?"

Wyatt stood slightly awkwardly, wringing his hands as he knew he'd be touching on a delicate subject. "It's about me, erm... moving out." Phoebe's mouth formed into a silent 'oh', and after giving Piper a reassuring pat on the arm retreated to the conservatory to find her husband. Piper busied herself with putting a couple of her cooking utensils away.

"What about it?"

"Well, I uh... I found a nice place further into the city. It's pretty cheap, and there's room for two. I was thinking of asking Lyall if he wanted to pitch in too. You remember Lyall, right? From Magic School?" Piper gave a small nod, of course she remembered Lyall; she'd saved him from a pack of manticores back when he was still an unnamed hybrid baby. Now of course he was a named, hybrid adolescent who'd somehow found his way into Wyatt's class at Magic School. At her lack of response Wyatt cleared his throat, taking a grape from the fruit bowl on the counter and popping it in his mouth. "I was wondering if you'd come by and look at the place before I made an offer on it. Just so you could see it first."

Piper nodded. "Sure."

Her short response was a clear indication of how it bothered her, and Wyatt tried to be understanding and gentle in his response. "I'm nearly nineteen, Mum. I can't live at home forever."

"I know, I know," Piper waved a flippant hand as she shoved a saucepan a little forcefully into a cupboard. "And since my genetics screwed up your chances of going to college like a normal child, the least you deserve is a place of your own." Wyatt offered her a sheepish smile. "I just – it's not easy for me."

"I know, I'm sorry," he opened his arms in invitation and Piper hugged him, still unnerved at how much taller than her he'd become over the years. "For what it's worth, it's not easy for me either."

Piper thwacked him lightly on the shoulder, a smile pulling at her mouth. "Don't lie to try and make me feel better."

"Sorry," they stood there in silence for a few moments, before Wyatt pulled back. "Hey, I was also going to ask if you'd seen Chris. He hasn't come home from Magic School yet, and he usually finishes around twelve on Tuesdays."

At the mention of Chris, Piper visibly closed off and she shook her head. "No, sorry Wyatt. I haven't seen him since yesterday. He came in quite late and left early for School this morning." Wyatt was acutely perceptive, like his father, to the small changes in Piper's tone and body language, and this was no different.

"Are you okay?"

His mother sighed. "We just had another argument yesterday, that's all."

"Another one?" Phoebe walked back into the kitchen, with Coop in tow. Turning to her sister, Piper nodded.

"Another one – I just don't know what he wants from us anymore. Luckily Leo was there, and all the glass remained un-exploded," she added in a forced cheerful voice, before turning to her son. "You might want to check P3, I know he's been spending a lot of time there recently." With a nod, Wyatt orbed out. Phoebe felt a rush of sympathy for her sister and her problems with Chris – she'd had her own issues with the boy, and although she hated pointing fingers it _did_ seem like he was usually the one who started the arguments. "Leo mentioned something yesterday about you having problems too," Piper added, turning to Phoebe with a lost expression. "Did he give you any clues why?"

Phoebe blinked in surprise. "Well I said something, I don't really remember what, and I started feeling this intense resentment from him – it didn't feel like he was angry with _me_, but it was such an intense feeling that... you know. I sorta started arguing with him a teensy bit." She kept her forefinger and thumb millimetres apart to demonstrate just how small the argument was, but Piper didn't buy it.

"Well I found out what it was all about yesterday. He's... jealous of how much we care about Chris. I mean, Future Chris. He thinks we love the Chris from the future more than him." Piper rubbed her temples, all the talk of there being two Chris' was a very odd notion to think about.

Phoebe's eyebrows furrowed. "And why is that?"

Piper shrugged. "He thinks that Future Chris is a better person than he is – saving the future, saving Wyatt... oh, I don't know. It's ridiculous."

"Aren't they the same person?" Coop interjected, not quite following.

"_Exactly_!" Piper gestured to Coop with a note of finality. "They _are_ the same person. Which is why it makes no sense to me or Leo."

"Paige said telling him and Wyatt about Chris going back in time was a bad idea," Phoebe added quietly.

She was right, but Piper wasn't quite willing to admit that. "Well it's been fine, until now," she huffed. "He used to love hearing about all the great things he did – or his other self did. It gave him something to throw back at the Twice-Blessed thing, the fact that he saved the future."

Coop was trying to make sure he understood what the sisters were talking about. "But it wasn't until Wyatt turned eighteen that you actually told them what the Old Future was, right? With Wyatt? Maybe this started after that."

"But I don't understand _why_," Piper sighed exasperatedly. "We waited to tell them about Wyatt being evil because we didn't think _he_ could handle it, not Chris. It just doesn't make sense."

Phoebe sighed, and drew Piper into a hug. "Mm, makes me glad I don't have any boys."

"Makes _me_ think Grams was exaggerating when she said how tough it was to raise us. I think Chris being jealous of himself trumps any of my old middle-child syndrome problems."

* * *

As much as Chris had wanted to cast the spell right off the bat the evening prior, he had still found himself orbing home in the middle of the night ready to get up for school the next morning none-the-wiser as to what his alter ego was like. _You're being dramatic_, Bianca had said, who retrospectively was definitely the one of the two who had her head screwed on properly. _I'm all for taking risks, but you're not thinking this through. You're pissed off, I get that, but before you catapult yourself into the past you need to work out what you really want from all this._ Against his better judgement, Chris had left the spell with her as he returned home – the wording needed some editing. When the idea had first entered his mind a few weeks ago, the first thing he had been sure to do was go to his aunt Phoebe and ask her what happened when she cast the spell all those years ago. She'd been a little edgy, not a hundred percent sure she remembered the details correctly as it had been so long ago but he suspected she'd managed to surmise the vague idea of what the spell did correctly. Of course she'd lapped up his story about doing research for class (seriously, how many times were his family going to let him get away with that?) and they'd spoken no more of it.

With the multitude of other things Chris needed to be focusing on in his life now, the idea of the spell had completely left him until his conversation with Paige and he had been further spurred on and angered by his argument with his parents, to the point when he'd been ready to rattle the spell out at any moment, but Bianca had dissuaded him. _You'll just end up getting things wrong – and you have to think about personal gain, too. That's the problem with you normal witches. Not a selfish bone in your body_.

He slung his bag over his shoulder with an irritated sigh, finally glad that his last lesson of the day was over and he could go and see Bianca – and work on the spell. God only knew how glad he was that it was his last year stuck in that echoing building. But first, he had some learning of his own to do, and he made for the Library at Magic School. He found himself being intercepted, though, before he'd even made it halfway there by a small, familiar brown-haired girl; and perhaps the only person who would demand his attention so effortlessly in a corridor filled with people. His little sister, Melinda.

"Can I get an orb home? My theory class cancelled today and I know you're done already. Saves me going to find the door." It had an irritating habit of changing its location every time she went home, and it was a bit of an extra chore she could do without.

Chris shook his head, and made to move past her. "I'm not going home. Sorry sis."

"Is that because of your argument with Mum and Dad yesterday?" She raised an eyebrow, and Chris rolled his eyes and headed to the Library. To his irritation, she claimed she had 'nothing else to do' and scampered after him – he just hoped she wouldn't look too much into what he was researching there. "So when you're done in here can I get an orb home?" She asked brightly, and Chris growled something incoherent. The site of the Library was enough to silence her for a little while, as he looked up and took in the extensive shelves of the room with the high ceiling. Like everything else in Magic School, the walls and floor were the colour of yellowing parchment, the rough stone of the ceiling extending further than the eye could see. The shelves themselves were of some kind of rich mahogany, stretching from the roof to the floor and stacked with rows upon rows of books; most of them were stacked nicely, but the occasional volume was simply shoved on the top of somewhere simply so it would fit.

Additionally, the odd ancient bind could be seen flying around, and irritated groups of students could be seen trying to use their powers to coax it down – the books had a habit of knowing which of their number was the most desirable, and a knack for making sure that one was the one taking off. If a student didn't work for their research, after all, it was almost as if they didn't work at all.

"I told you," Chris briefly turned to his sister and adjusted the strap on his bag. "I'm not going home after this." He began walking along the aisles, trying to find the one that might relate to him the best.

Melinda was unperturbed, and fell into step behind him. "Well where are you going?"

He sighed. "P3." Being truthful seemed to avoid them going around in circles.

"But you already had a shift at P3 yesterday – why are you going there again today?"

Identifying the correct aisle (handily labelled under 'T'), Chris turned to move down it. "It's not a work thing, it's a social thing. Our Mum _is_ the joint-owner. We're allowed there whenever we like."

Melinda gave him a mischievous smile. "Is it a _date_?"

Pausing mid-browse, Chris shot her an irritated glare. "Either way, you're not invited."

"So it _is_ a date."

"Hey, you're too young to be a smartass. Get outta here," he finally managed to find the section he was looking for, and pulled a few random books out of place. As per usual, she didn't listen, and instead turned her attentions to the books he was removing from their places on the shelf.

She picked up the first volume and scanned the binding. "'Time Travel for the Educated Mind'," she looked at the next, "'Messing With Minutes'," and the next, "'How You Met Your Mother'... What's with the choice of book?"

Chris snatched a few of them back and shoved them on top of the pile. "Tell Mum and Dad and you're dead." Melinda, on most days, was actually always keen to impress her brothers and would usually do whatever they said on a given command – an unfortunate side effect of this was that her brothers, even Wyatt on occasion, had often been accused of manipulating her for their benefit and praying on her desire to be included in their activities. When the two people closest to you shared special powers that you didn't, it often had the effect of increasing the feeling of exclusion from the party.

"Do you have to be so grumpy all the time?" She rolled her eyes, leaning against the bookshelves with a huff. Chris didn't answer. "Maybe I can help. I can levitate and look for books on the higher shelves, right?"

He didn't want to shoot her down, her tone being bright and her eyes being wide and eager to please, but he shook his head and kept his gaze focused on the books. "Or I could just orb them," he muttered. The real problem here was how he would get the books out of the Library without setting off the alarm – his father was bound to find out if he checked out most of the time travel section of the archive.

"Hey," she scolded. "No Whitelighter powers in front of the normal witch." Sensing an opportunity, Chris turned back to her and deliberately orbed a few of the books from the higher shelves into his hand unnecessarily and raised an eyebrow at her scowl.

"Oh I'm sorry," he quipped in a bored tone. "Does that bother you?" Orbing another book, he watched her stare at it, a mixture of envy and irritation on her face.

Her eyes narrowed. "You used to be fun, Chris," she let the admission hang in the air, but her brother didn't seem to be bothered. At a loss of what to do next, Melinda folded her arms and looked around the Library, before spotting a familiar door on the other side of the room. "Lucky for you, the door back home is here. So whatever," she turned on her heel haughtily, but not before throwing one more glare over her shoulder. "See you at dinner, jerk."

Chris didn't even bother watching her go. "I wouldn't count on it," he murmured, as he slipped a few of the volumes into his bag. He would've felt guilty – ordinarily he disliked being harsh to Melinda that way, but he had other things to worry about. Bigger things. If this was to go down without a hitch, then Bianca was right; he needed to get rid of his distractions. It was only then that what she'd said really hit home, and he looked up – eyes coming to rest on the familiar oak doorway embroidered with intricate patterns. _That_ was his way out. "Very lucky for me indeed." He tried to look as inconspicuous as possible as he crossed the Library, making sure to leave it a few moments so Melinda would be safely out of the way before he opened the door, and shut it with as little force as possible, so as not to attract any attention.

* * *

Around forty-five minutes later, Chris found himself at P3 and showing off his haul to Bianca. He was perched on a bar stool, his bag resting on the bar as she sat behind it and looked at which books he'd managed to get. It was the middle of the day, so the club was deserted – traditionally it had always been a good place for Halliwells to meet and organise themselves, whether demon hunting or even group babysitting, which always seemed to be a hot topic when there were nine children in the family to be taken care of. Not that he felt like he and Wyatt should be included in that anymore – quite the contrary, since they'd turned sixteen Piper had let them both work shifts in the club during the night so they could earn that little bit of extra money. She had to pay them of course, seeing as she was only the joint owner. Her business partner, Dennis Jackles, had been a longstanding fan of the club, and when Piper had decided to sell it in favour of opening her dream restaurant, Jackles had offered to share ownership with her and run the club if she kept her name in the business; the Halliwells were part of P3's charm apparently, and were key in the selling point of the club.

Essentially, Dennis _ran_ the place, and Piper popped her head in occasionally, not to mention her participation had provided two keen bartenders looking for a little bit of extra cash. And it beat working shifts at the restaurant, anyway.

Bianca was speaking, and Chris' attention was drawn back to her and away from the history of the club. "No 'Portals and Mechanisms'?" She mused thoughtfullt as she looked over the books they had.

Chris shrugged apologetically. "It had already been checked out, sorry. But I got everything else."

"This is good Chris, really good. I mean, I would have gone to get all these myself but..." She trailed off and raised an eyebrow at him. "You know, Magic School isn't exactly my biggest fan."

"Attacking the teachers is kind of a sure-fire way for that to happen."

She wasn't even slightly bothered – she simply moved back to her studying of the books, before pulling out the Past Life Spell she'd been keeping in her own bag and looking up at Chris seriously. "If what your aunt said was right, then it means that this spell will to take you to your past life before you were reincarnated into you."

Chris nodded. "And that would be my other self, right? Seeing as he died the day I was born?"

Bianca shook her head, and the corner of her mouth perked upwards. "For a boy who calls himself top of the class at Magic School, you know surprisingly little."

He rose to the challenge instantly, leaning forward slightly as he did so. "For the girl who got expelled for trying to murder our Advanced Magic teacher, you know a reasonable amount." Bianca gave him a coy look lasting for a few seconds, before she looked down again and the spell was broken – after all, bringing up the reason they had to meet up in secret was one way to kill the mood.

"The one thing you and the other Chris _share_ are your past lives. Everything you are has been exactly the same up until your birth – then he started messing with the timeline and screwing everything up, and thus we ended up with your family having memories of both of you." Chris nodded, a smirk tugging at his lips.

"It's nice to see someone insulting him for a change."

Bianca gave him a brief smile, but pressed on. "So the wording for this spell has to change if you want to see _him_, and not the life before you both. Or you'll find yourself in some fifties diner rather than where you want to be."

Opening his mouth to ask _how_ they could change the spell, he was cut off when he heard the sound of somebody orbing in. Bianca's reactions were quicker than his, and in a moment the books were swept back into his bag as Chris grabbed the spell and stuffed it rather unceremoniously in the inside pocket of his jacket.

"Wyatt," he greeted, obviously surprised. "What are you doing here?"

Before Wyatt could answer properly, his eyes took in who Chris was sitting with and they bulged in surprise. "I think what is _she_ doing here is the more appropriate question," he muttered, his expression turning hard.

"That's none of your business," Chris answered easily, and Wyatt turned back to him.

"Make a habit of bringing murderers down here, or was that just today?"

Chris scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Oh please, don't be so dramatic."

"I prefer the term 'assassin'," came Bianca's icy reply, her gaze cutting into Wyatt like a knife.

Wyatt ignored her, and focused his attention on his brother. "She can't be trusted, Chris," he shot her a wary glance, torn between the need to keep his distance and stand between the pair of them – he didn't like this scene at all, not one bit.

"Don't you think if she wanted to kill me, she would have done so already?" Chris raised his eyebrows, the whole idea of it being laughable. Especially when she was the one helping him with what he wanted to do most, while the rest of his family stood by and did nothing. "She's a witch, Wyatt. She's not evil."

"She's a hired gun," Wyatt growled, his stony gaze turning to Bianca.

Chris narrowed his eyes, not liking the way Wyatt was looking at her. "You used to tell me that meant she was neutral," he challenged, knowing it wasn't too long ago that Wyatt had been on his side, trying to defend Bianca from her onslaught of accusers.

"Oh Wyatt, how sweet," Bianca smiled coyly, resting her chin on her hand and satisfied that Chris would be defending her.

Wyatt gave her a look that could have melted iron. "I've been wrong before."

"Look, we've got stuff to do," Chris interjected, throwing him a bored look. "So whatever you want, spit it out or get out."

His brother didn't look best pleased at the ultimatum, nor Bianca's triumphant smile that came with it. He gave Chris a pointed look. "A word, please," he shot Bianca a glare. "In private." With an irritated sigh, Chris got up from the bar and followed where his brother was beckoning, heading to the back office. Before he could even open his mouth Wyatt was shaking his head with disbelief. "What, are you on a _date_ with her?"

Chris resisted the urge to roll his eyes. _Why did everyone assume that?_ "I don't have to answer that," he shrugged.

"Oh believe me, you do," Wyatt narrowed his eyes.

"Would it be any of your business if I was? Funnily enough, I don't think so," he folded his arms.

Wyatt held his gaze for a few seconds, but his nature wasn't one of the argumentative kind and it wasn't long before his shoulders sagged, a key sign of him relenting. Resignation coloured his tone as he spoke. "She's dangerous, Chris."

Chris wouldn't have it. "It's still none of your business," but he too didn't like the idea of fighting with his demon-hunting partner for too long, and tried to soften his frosty exterior too. "What are you after, Wyatt?"

Almost as if he'd forgotten why he was there in the first place, Wyatt looked bemused for a moment before he realised what he was being asked. "Oh, right. It's just I got a message from a Satyr yesterday who said two of his nymphs disappeared, and I know over the past few weeks some fairies have been reported missing," he bit his lip. "I've got a bad feeling about it – something big is stirring Chris, and instead of scraping a solution at the last minute like we usually do, it would be nice to get a little ahead of the game for once."

"I thought we weren't supposed to vanquish demons on our own?" Chris felt the corner of his mouth curling upward, knowing that Wyatt was just as willing to ignore the orders of their parents as he was.

Wyatt offered him a mischievous grin. "Yes, well, that's the official story. In any case, I was wondering if you'd come with me to the Enchanted Forest tomorrow for a bit of investigation work?"

His brother nodded, offering him one of his first genuine smiles in weeks. "Sure," he shoved his hands in his pockets and made to head for the door to the office. "Is that all?" Wyatt threw another lingering glance at the door that led out to the club, and inevitably Bianca, and Chris rolled his eyes and began to pull it open.

"Look, I won't tell them – but Mum and Dad are going to blow a gasket when they find out," he reasoned, wishing his brother wouldn't go back out there.

Chris sighed, not even bothering to look back as he walked through the doorway. "_Still_ none of your business." Wyatt sighed, but the familiar sound of him orbing out could be heard. All things considered, Chris still hated having to lie to Wyatt – he trusted him with his life, not to mention if anyone were to understand his position, it would be the one with the _evil_ counterpart in the same alternate reality that had to be changed by someone coming from the future. Wyatt had once told him that it made him think he'd been born inherently evil (that he felt was supported by the fact that he'd needed his own brother to travel back in time in the form of an intervention) and it was times like those that Chris' situation didn't felt so bad.

"Listen, the guys are going to want to come in here and start setting up for the band soon, so –" He paused as he was watching Bianca stand up and put her jacket on as if she were preparing to leave. "Uh, going somewhere?" He asked bemusedly as he reached her.

She gave him an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry Chris, but something's come up. Can I take a rain-check on writing your spell?" She swept the books into her bag and slung it over her shoulder. Seeing Chris looking so put out she patted him on the arm. "Come over to my place tonight, we'll finish it then."

Chris shrugged. "Sure," he muttered, trying to sound a little more optimistic.

"Perfect," Bianca flashed him a grin and stood on her tiptoes, kissing him lightly on the cheek. "See you later, Whitelighter." Before she turned on her heel and departed from the club, leaving Chris to touch a shocked hand to the side of his face that he might never wash again, as a broad grin broke across his features.

* * *

Bianca departed P3 with a hard expression, completely alert for any and all signs of danger. It wasn't unusual for her to be walking in alleyways alone, but it didn't make her ignorant or naive – she wasn't a mortal, and she was at a tender age and unlikely to be ignored by demons. There were prices on the heads of assassin witches, and after all the bounties they'd gone after in their lifetimes, there were many who wouldn't mind them dead. She felt comfortable in the darkness of the side-street, something refreshing after spending so much time out in the open with Chris; he rarely had anything to hide, not like she did. He was an amateur when it came to secrets, a child who was too busy trying to be the favourite son to worry about the bigger picture – but she knew about the bigger picture, she was well attuned to it. Bianca would not be caught unawares again.

She wouldn't have been called out there for no reason, and as she stepped over some meaningless debris at the edge of the alleyway she could feel the tip of her skin begin to prickle; she stiffened, waiting for the inevitable and she whirled around to throw a high kick at the oncoming attacker. The hooded figure caught her leg with ease, and under the cover of the robe she could see the corner of his mouth turning up in a satisfied smirk.

"Now now, is that any way to treat your employer?" With an irritated grunt Bianca pulled her foot back, and brushed some of her hair from out of her eyes. She said nothing, just prepared herself for whatever he had to say. "I wanted to see how you were getting on."

Bianca turned to him with an icy look. "Why? Don't think I'll finish it?"

The figure inclined his head in concession, but he wouldn't quite wipe the smirk from his face and it irritated her to no end. "On the contrary, I have complete faith in you Bianca. I just want to make sure there aren't any distractions."

"Well, if you stop taking time out of your busy schedule to _check on me_, I'm sure it'd be done a lot quicker."

The part of the figure's face she could see hardened, and a shot of fear ran through her. _No_, she chided herself, _Phoenix's are not afraid_. "You have an icy exterior my dear, but you'd do well to remember that you are at my mercy."

Bianca said nothing. She resisted the urge to spit on his boots.

"But have it your way, I'll leave you be. Just remember – if you ever want to see your father again, I need the body of a witch."

The Phoenix's eyes hardened, and she finally turned to look at him with the ghost of a challenge on her face. "I can do better than that," she added coldly, raising an eyebrow.

The figure showed no change in expression, merely gestured for her to continue. "Oh?"

Bianca nodded, steeling herself up for the admission. "I can get you the body of a Halliwell."

* * *

**Dun dun duuun! Also, sorry I threw you a fake cliffhanger last chapter, but I promise you Chris will be chanting spells to his heart's content next chapter, where everything finally goes wrong. Question: How do YOU think the spell is going to go wrong? What is our hero exactly in for?**

**An additional note: this story is planned to be long, and every detail I put in here is always there for a reason, so do keep an eye on everything – even the seemingly insignificant things. It's also Chris-centric, but as you can see it's not just about Chris; I hope you'll all enjoy it nonetheless. :) Please tell me what you think!**

**Reviews are like powers to Cole in the Wasteland,**

**~MyWhitelighter**


	3. Converging

**Hullo! Sorry it's been a while since my last update, snow and internet problems and all sorts seemed set on keeping me away from my computer but hey, I made it. I wanted to thank you guys for your continued support – everyday I'm still getting more favourites and follows and it literally means the world to me! I'm assuming that means I'm doing something right, so please, enjoy this chapter and let me know what you think! R&R :)**

* * *

**Chapter Three: Converging**

The atmosphere was tense around the Halliwell dinner table. Though sat with a perfectly calm exterior, the respective husband and children of Piper Halliwell didn't need to be empaths to feel the irritation radiating from her in waves as she threw pointed glances at the empty seat. The meal sat in front of them, laid out and ready to eat, but Piper would have none of it while they were missing someone – which in turn irritated Wyatt and Melinda a little as they were both _hungry_ and wanted to start.

Melinda picked up her fork and all eyes turned on her, and she shrugged, poking some of her mashed potato absently. "Well he's not coming," she huffed; still mad at him for the amount he'd teased her earlier in the day. He knew not having Whitelighter powers was a sore spot of hers, and he'd played on it deliberately – he wanted to be left alone and so God help him he _would_ be if he kept up with an attitude like that.

"Maybe he's with a charge," Leo reasoned to Piper in a lowered tone.

Piper raised her eyebrows. "Do you really believe that?" Leo didn't answer, but gave his wife a pointed look, and a deliberate glance at their other two children who were both punctual, present and correct. "Oh, alright. You can start. Chris!" She called, and the children winced, hoping for their brother's sake that he'd respond.

No such luck, and they started the meal in silence.

"Chris!" Piper snapped, more irritably this time. "Chris, I know you can hear me so get your _butt_ down here!"

"Piper," Leo frowned, and laid a hand on her arm.

She brushed it off. "_No_ Leo, just because he thinks he's above us does not mean that he can stay out doing God knows what with his friends while I spend hours _cooking_ for him – he could at least show me the courtesy of showing up."

Leo was conscious of the other two children listening intently, so he tried to keep his voice low. "I thought you said him acting out was a good sign? A normal teenager thing? Maybe this _is_ a good thing."

"Ever the optimist," she sighed. "But he's been like this for _weeks_ and I'm getting fed up of it, Leo."

"I know." She opened her mouth to call for him again but Leo shook his head and she shut it, resigning herself to starting her own meal. Sometimes the amount of second chances Leo was willing to doll out to her children frustrated her, but she knew he was just trying to be the best father that he could be to them. Being told by his twenty-three-year-old son that he had been an awful parent in the future had shaken him more than he would sometimes admit, making him try that little bit harder – this was especially poignant in matters concerning Chris himself, and all his recent behaviour being taken into account, it was becoming a _bit_ of a problem.

Just as she began to eat and think up potential punishments for her second son when he _did_ get home, she heard the clatter of the fork on a plate and looked up into the wide eyes of Melinda. Before she could ask what it was, she heard the familiar zapping sound she associated with the creation of an energy ball behind her, but Wyatt reacted first.

"Demons!" He shouted, and he was on his feet in seconds. Two demons had apparently shimmered in unnoticed behind them, and they weren't any Piper recognised on site. They were dressed in the usual expected dark clothing, their only defining feature being the small tattoo visible in the centre of their foreheads, in the clear shape of some kind of black creature, its tongue spitting out darkness and brushing the hairline of the demons in question. And it _moved_. Wyatt instinctively flung a knife telekinetically from the tabletop into one of them, but it didn't acquire enough momentum to do more than lodge itself in his shoulder. It grunted and pulled it out, and Wyatt wished for a fleeting moment that he had the sheer strength of telekinesis that Chris had.

Just as the other demon's mouth curled upwards and he made to fire another energy ball, Piper lifted her hands and froze it midair. "Leo, Melinda!" But she needn't have spoken. The moment the commotion began Leo had leapt from his seat and grabbed the youngest of their children, to her protestations, and pulled her from the room. Safe in the knowledge that everyone except her and Wyatt were out of immediate danger, she turned her full attention to the two invaders.

With a simple blast from her hands one of the demons broke into millions of tiny particles, and as Wyatt flung the frozen energy ball back to the other, his companion too wasn't far behind. Left with smoke and the distinct post-combustion smell of burning demon, the eighteen-year-old couldn't help but throw a perplexed look at his mother; that was quite possibly one of the simplest vanquishes he'd ever witnessed.

Piper simply tilted her head, alarmed. "Why was that so easy? Is there a reason that was so easy?" She turned to her son, but he had just as much of an idea as she. "It's always worse when the vanquish is easy." Decades of doing this had taught her that much.

"Are they gone?" Leo, still holding tight to Melinda, peered back around the corner. It wasn't in his nature to hide when a demon attacked, but he had a fourteen-year-old daughter to think of and damn it all if he was going to let anything happen to her.

"Yeah," Wyatt muttered, still on edge and restless with the added adrenaline pumping around his system. "But I don't like it."

Leo looked between wife and son and felt their unease creep into the bottom of his gut. "Well did you get a good look at them? I'll get the Book and we can try and ID them."

"Dad, you can let _go_ now," Melinda pulled herself from his grip. "Demons are vanquished, I want to get back to my dinner." God only knew how much she knew she could _help_ with these vanquishes if only her family would let her. She, like her Aunt, had the ability to levitate, and she knew just how she could put it to good use. Leo shot Piper a helpless look, but she looked away – neither of them were particularly willing to let their daughter stand in harm's way.

Wyatt hovered awkwardly, before departing for the stairs. "I'll go get the Book."

As Melinda sat back down at the table, Leo and Piper stood around it, taking a moment to silently marvel at how nothing in the manor seemed broken for once, before the eldest Halliwell simply stamped her foot in pent up frustration.

"_Chris_! You get your ass down here _now_!"

* * *

_Three Years Ago._

_Mother of all things magical, if Chris had to sit through one more hour of Magical Theorem he swore to the Powers That Be he'd go on strike from doing work for Magic School for the rest of his life. It wasn't often that Chris ever complained, he loved the school and all the work, but he hardly felt like it was fair that he had to do extra hours to make up for lost credit points. Lost, mind you, because he'd taken two days off to help his mother and his aunts track down a Packrat Demon that had had them chasing up false leads for a week already. It possessed an irritating advancement on the usual warlock's blinking power, which meant it moved faster than the girls had chances to use their powers – orbs seemed to be the only thing it was particularly susceptible too. And with Paige being only one person, having someone else around who could orb had been very beneficial to them. They would have asked Wyatt, of course, but he had important examinations to prepare for and was boarding at Magic School to avoid distractions. To Chris' intense satisfaction, with his help the Packrat was caught and vanquished, and his mother was _finally_ beginning to trust him with demon related situations._

_Not that Magic School cared much for that, of course. Extra credit it was._

_He couldn't wait to start the Advanced Magic classes that Wyatt had – they actually seemed interesting. But at the tender age of fourteen he wasn't due to start them for another year or so, which left him with Magical Theorem and everything else that was as dull as ditchwater to deal with. Besides, he could already ace Theorem; it wasn't like he needed to spend that much time on it. (Being the son of a Charmed One certainly did have its benefits)._

_Just as he was turning into the Infinite Corridor that ran through Magic School, ready to head home, he felt his legs being pulled out from under him and he yelped in surprise – his sudden loss of balance sending him crashing to the floor and his books spilling out of his bag._

_"Clumsy, aren't you Whitelighter?" A girl he vaguely recognised stood leaning against one of the pillars, the ghost of a smirk pulling at the corner of her mouth. Chris muttered obscenities as he hurriedly began to stuff his belongings back into his bag._

_"Maybe a little," he answered hesitantly. He knew his suspicions held no grounds – after all, this was _Magic School_, and very little if no evil could get in there, and for Warren's sake she'd _just_ watched him fall over, that was all. There was just something about her demeanour that made him instantly apprehensive._

_She wandered over with a delicate spring in her step, and knelt down next to him. "Need any help?" He took a good, long look at her – she looked about his age, and he thought he'd seen her in his Potion Making class which would explain her familiarity. There was a cool and confident air that she exuberated that he found himself being drawn to, but he was still wary. "Take a picture," she laughed, this time her smile being genuine and warm. "It lasts longer."_

_Chris blinked. "Ah, sorry," suddenly embarrassed, he looked for some kind of scapegoat in his surroundings, but found none. "My Dad always says observation of potential enemies is important."_

_"I'm an enemy now?" The girl replied with a raised eyebrow. "You don't even know my name, Halliwell. That's a bit of a snap judgement, don't you think?" The statement seemed like one that should be harsh, but her tone was light and jovial and Chris found his walls cracking under the soothing notes of it._

_"Well why don't you tell me your name," he grinned with a tilt of his head, standing up with her as she handed him the last of his spilt papers._

_The girl winked. "Bianca," she smiled, and after a final look began to head away down the corridor. "I'll see you in Theorem, Whitelighter." Chris didn't complain about Magical Theorem after that – and after befriending the flighty and nonchalant girl in the corridors of the school, he finally began to appreciate the merits in being mischievous and challenging the rules, rather than following them to the letter as he had always been told to do._

_(Of course, it wasn't until he got home that evening that he realised the real reason she had pulled his legs out from under him that morning – while going through his things, he had noticed he was missing a Theorem essay he'd spent hours writing for homework, on the consequences of personal gain, but oddly when it turned up in the classroom under the name of Bianca Phoenix he didn't even mention it to her. And even odder, perhaps, was that in all of their subsequent years of friendship, neither one of them had even considered bringing it up in the slightest). _

* * *

_"Chris!"_

The voice rocked through his concentration and his eyes flew open, feeling his focus slipping and as a consequence the ground rapidly approaching him with a startled yelp. Bianca heard a cry from over her shoulder and spared him a glance, and raised an amused eyebrow. "That bored of meditation already?" Chris groaned and rubbed his now throbbing head, and wondered why on Earth his father had always told him meditation was a relaxing process. Especially when it was so easy to lose your focus and end up crashing back towards the ground. It took him a moment to remember where he was – Bianca's apartment, the one she shared with her mother. There was an aromatic haze hovering toward the surface of the room, where he himself had been meditating a moment earlier, which left him feeling a little thick-headed and drowsy, but Bianca had said it would enhance the power of the spell so he wasn't exactly one to complain.

Intense focus was also important, because he needed to have a specific idea of what exactly he was travelling back to find, so she'd recommended he meditate for a few minutes to clear his head – it was an old Whitelighter technique Leo had once taught him, and he'd never really felt like he had a use for it until that moment. Wyatt had always been the one out of the pair of them to spend time meditating.

"No, I just thought I heard –"

_"Chris!"_

The voice and the nature of how he heard it was so painstakingly familiar that it tugged at his heartstrings in seconds, and it took all he had not to orb away that instant to where he was being called. Apparently that was a Whitelighter thing too, but as the calling voice was easily identified as his mother he suspected it was more of a family tether that had his instincts willing him to fly straight to the source.

"Mom."

That had Bianca turning around, and the sharp look in her eyes unnerved him a little. "So ignore her," she replied with a steely coolness. "This is more important." It _was_ more important, to him at least, so he nodded and ran a hand through his hair.

"Are all of these candles really necessary?" He asked with a raised eyebrow. "Aunt Phoebe said all she needed to do was read the spell and it took her straight there."

Bianca leaned forward and lit one of the many wicks littering the room. "This is a different kind of spell," she reminded him. "And it needs a different atmosphere. Besides, isn't all this stuff relaxing?"

Chris blinked, unsure of how to respond. "I suppose so." The witch threw him a secretive smile which he responded to; still a little baffled by the way she was acting. He was ready to resume his meditation for a few minutes before he again heard the familiar voice of his mother echoing in the back of his head, and he felt his resolve weakening. Not to mention she was using more colourful language now, and he hated the idea of Piper being mad at him for too long. Bianca seemed to notice his deliberation, and paused mid-light as she headed for another candle. Chris wrung his hands and shifted uncomfortably. "Look, maybe I should just go and see what she wants. I can be back in seconds flat."

"You know you won't be, though," she replied with a nonchalant shrug as she resumed her task of lighting the candles littered around the room. Her aloof attitude to it grated at his nerves a little, but he refused to let it bother him because he knew she was _right_.

"What if it's important?" He settled for saying, folding his arms.

Bianca put down the candle lighter and gave him her full attention, and he hesitated under her direct gaze – suddenly going to see Piper didn't seem like such a good idea, as much as he felt like he wanted to. "What if it's not?" She folded her own arms. Chris opened his mouth to shoot back a response, but Bianca cut him off by dropping her gaze, looking defeated. "I know it's hard for you, Chris," she began tiredly. "But you asked me to write you a spell and I've done that. I'm sticking my neck out for you – if my Mom knew what we were doing in here, I'd be done for." So that wasn't exactly true, and even if it were the young assassin witch knew there wasn't a lot her mother could do to her by way of punishment; more often than not she was left to her own devices and Lynn might drop her head in occasionally, but she knew better than to meddle with Bianca's business. Chris, of course, didn't know that.

Finally Chris sighed, knowing he'd been defeated. Bianca offered him a sheepish smile. "Could you pass me that last candle?" She nodded towards the only one she hadn't lit yet. He obliged and handed it to her, albeit a little begrudgingly

_"_Chris_! You get your ass down here _now_!"_

"I just don't like ignoring her, that's all."

Bianca tried to be sympathetic. "I know," before adding in an undertone, "but let's face it; she's probably only pissed off because you're late for dinner."

That earned her a glare. "Hey," he warned.

She pressed her lips into a tight line. "Should've known better than to insult the mother in front of the Mama's boy."

Chris was indignant. "Hey, I am _not_ a—"

"We're ready," she interrupted, attempting to bring him back on track. She placed the final candle back in its position in the circle, and made to retrieve the spell from where she'd written it. His protestations of the last few minutes forgotten, Chris couldn't help but feel a rush of unease sweep through him – suppose things went wrong, or didn't go according to the plan? What was he supposed to do then? Bianca was his only ally in this, and although he trusted her with most things, it was a little questionable as to whether she would know what to do in a situation like that. All the same, there was definitely something exciting about casting a spell that his parents knew nothing of – sure, he and Wyatt used to do it loads when they were kids, but this was different. This wasn't trying to sneak an extra cookie from Piper's latest batch; this was serious.

His heart began to thud as she returned, hammering on his rib cage so loud he was sure she must've been able to hear it as she passed him the piece of paper with the spell written on. "Are you set?"

Chris swallowed. "I think so. Let me just go over this again... so I read this," he opened the piece of paper. "And I leave my body here and travel into the past. I do what I want to do, then say your reversal spell and I come straight back, right?"

"Right," she affirmed, feeling the smallest of guilty tugs pull at her heart.

"Thank you for doing this," he offered her a grateful smile as he sat down in the middle of the circle of candles. Bianca said nothing. "It means a lot. And look after my body, alright?" This he delivered with a playful smirk that she returned. He wasn't sure what he expected to find at the other end of this spell, but to be honest with each passing second he was beginning to care less and less – his head felt thick and heavy, and he couldn't wait to say the spell just so that he might be able to close his eyes and get some rest. Bianca seemed to notice this and looked alarmed for a moment.

"You better say the spell," she pressed. "Don't worry, I'll be here when you wake up." Chris nodded and readied himself. "I'll see you when you get back, Whitelighter." She waved, and he grinned, beginning to recite it.

"_Remove the chains of time and space,_

_Of Worlds Destiny's ways obscure,_

_And let these mortal arms embrace, _

_My life that bode before." _

As he finished the last line, Bianca watched him fall on his side like a marionette with severed strings in a moment, his eyes drooping before coming to a close, and his steady breathing signifying that he was at least still alive. However long that would last, however, was down to her. He was breathing, but there was no soul inside his body as far as she was concerned – if there was one genuine thing about her underhand deal with Chris, it was her spell. She really _did_ believe it would take him to where he wanted to be, but whether her reversal spell would bring him back was another matter. She hadn't spent as much time on it and had written it in a hurry, going with the idea that he wouldn't _need_ to say the spell when he moved on.

In mere moments she was crouched at his side, her eyes hard and her expression emotionless for what she was about to do. There was no time to waste on spells and whatever else she had considered, and instead went straight for the quickest end – holding out her right hand she conjured an athame, it's sharp tip glinting in the candlelight and as steely cold as she was trying to make her heart for the deed she was about to commit. There was too much at stake for her to back out now, the events had already been set in motion; she had no choice but to steer her ship on the changing tides as best she could, and if sacrifices had to made then she would not be unwilling to make them.

"It's been fun, Chris," she murmured, brushing some of his hair away from his forehead. "And thank you for being different to everyone else," for seeing her as a person, as a witch, and not as a cold-blooded assassin. "I'm only sorry you were wrong." Her voice dropped to a whisper as she pressed the blade to the base of his throat, pricking it first and watching a droplet of blood drip from the wound.

Just as she was about to press it further, end the waiting in one clean swipe that would kill him in seconds, she felt his chest begin to rise and fall more sporadically, as if he were in control of his own breathing once again and she panicked. Mother of magic, she wasn't going to do this when he was _awake_. Before she had a chance to finish the job his eyes flew open and he wheezed loudly, coughing and spluttering as if air were something he had not tasted in weeks, gulping and swallowing it down as he tried to focus his dilated pupils on something else. In her surprise, Bianca dropped the athame and crawled backwards as his body began to convulse on the floor in front of her.

It was haunting, watching as he thrashed in the centre of the glittering candles – his eyes were open, but he was not really _seeing_ anything, and she could only stare in morbid fascination as she wondered if her spell had done this. Perhaps she didn't need a knife, and all she had needed to kill Chris Halliwell was a poorly written spell of her own.

As suddenly as he began, Chris stopped moving, still breathing rapidly as if he were recovering from a great race as he stared up at the ceiling. Slowly but surely his eyes came into focus, and Bianca only sat a metre away wondering how in Merlin's name he had woken so soon when she'd filled the room with such heavy sleeping potion fumes she had immunised herself too. He should be out for hours, at least.

Finally Chris opened his mouth, a single word resting on his lips that he released in a hoarse whisper.

"Gideon," he choked out, before mustering up enough willpower for a few more. "We have to stop Gideon."

* * *

Halliwell Manor, 17 Years Previously, 8th June, 2004.

It was a strange moment when Chris gained the Visitor.

He was overcome by a sudden dizzy spell, feeling himself sway on his feet mid-walk through the conservatory and his vision blurred. Thinking he must be experiencing some sort of vertigo he stopped, lifting a tentative hand to his temple and wincing at the stab of pain that shot through his system – it took him a moment to try and pull himself into focus, and when he finally did after grappling onto the doorframe for support, his vision was blurred and confusion rang through him. After a few moments it passed, but he couldn't help the feeling of something manifesting itself in a corner of his mind; a migraine, perhaps, and he tried to shake it off. Moving his head in such an abrupt way didn't help though, and he began to unbalance again so he tried to remember what he had been doing before he'd been struck by the headache.

The Visitor was also adjusting to his new surroundings. Inside a body that he could not control, although he felt whole and as a single entity that could think for itself, he was in every way an intruder. He was not used to the extra walls surrounding the perimeter of his mind – in his own time he had never had anything to hide, but his double felt... _sneaky_. Surreptitious. That an End justified a Means, as long as nobody found out what they were. His every response to a situation was carefully thought and deliberate, and not as impulsive and predictable as Wyatt had always told the Visitor that he was – but the Chris Halliwell in control was the keeper of many secrets.

_Wyatt_.

"Hey Phoebe," Chris said as he stepped into the kitchen. His aunt, looking ten times younger than he was used to even after these last few months spent in the past, looked up from the potion she was stood over and smiled. Her hair was black and cropped short, something he had only ever seen in pictures – it was a marvel he was slowly getting used to.

"Hey," she answered, dropping what looked like eye of newt into the bubbling pot.

He leaned against the counter and took a doubtful look at the smoke rising from within it. "Is that potion done yet?"

"Nearly," she chirped, brushing some dust from her hands. "Has scrying for the demon worked?"

"Not yet," he answered tiredly. "But we'll find him. Just make sure that potion is ready in time, okay?"

Phoebe rolled her eyes and muttered under her breath. "You're the boss."

Chris had by now learned to separate himself from any attachment he had once felt for the Halliwell women in the manor. He'd managed to pass himself off as their Whitelighter for months now, but he knew on some level the sisters were still wary of him – they had been used to Leo for years and he was, after all, the reason their brother-in-law was no longer around. If he allowed himself to be offended every time they made a jab at him he would never get anywhere; and if he allowed his relation to them get in the way of his task – well. Then there would be no point in him coming back at all. So any kind of affection he had once felt towards them was a thing of the past, and an aloof attitude was the one he had adopted. He was here to do a job, and that was it. Not to do the sisters any favours. And that, by far, was what surprised the Visitor the most.

Chris had been about to reply, but he hesitated. "Do you know where Piper keeps the aspirin?" He asked, rubbing his temple.

This made Phoebe pause. "Why? Are you feeling okay?"

"Yeah, I just..." He couldn't find the words to describe it. "I've just got a little headache, that's all."

"It's upstairs," Phoebe offered him a sympathetic smile and patted his arm. "I'll finish this potion, Piper's on demon-tracking – go take it easy for a while, okay? You've been working yourself too hard. We get the importance of demon-hunting, but maybe it's not just _us _that need the break."

Chris waved her away. "I'm fine."

"You're tired," she pressed. "I can sense it." This caught Chris attention – if the Empath-blocking potion he had been taking had already worn off, then he needed to make sure he had enough to last him another week. He couldn't run the risk of Phoebe's new power revealing his motives to her and her sisters; secrecy was of the utmost importance. "Please get some rest." He looked up into her concerned face and he let out a defeated sigh.

"Maybe," he murmured. "I'm going to go get that aspirin. Let me know when you finish the potion." And with an eyebrow raised he orbed out of the kitchen.

When he materialised he was in the familiar surroundings of the upstairs bathroom (lazy, the Visitor thought, to orb instead of walking up a single flight of stairs), but instead of going for the kitchen cupboard where he knew the aspirin would be, he reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out a small vial. With a mild attempt at humour he clinked the vial against the bathroom mirror and drank it, the familiar scarlet liquid of the Empath-blocking potion running down his throat. He felt better already – he had too many secrets to hide. Vivid images of a dark future flashed across the forefront of his mind, splashes of water colour on a blank canvas with the brush strokes never pausing long enough for the Visitor to get a clear look, but it was there. It wasn't something Chris enjoyed thinking about, but it served as a constant reminder of why he was there.

As he pulled the aspirin from the bathroom cupboard, he was about to pour himself a glass of water when the sound of someone orbing in had him dropping the tablets in surprise. Leo Wyatt materialized behind him, his face the picture of thunder as he grabbed Chris' upper arms and shoved him against the wall.

"Leo!" Chris yelped indignantly, but after seeing the malicious glint in his father's eyes attempted to resume his usual cool exterior. "We've got to stop meeting like this." In reaction to his remark Leo pressed an arm against Chris' throat and growled, but the Witchlighter was unperturbed. "What, going to bludgeon me with a toothbrush?"

"I don't care what the girls say," Leo growled. "I know you're up to something. And I _know_ it was you that sent me to Valhalla – and I'm going to prove it."

Chris rolled his eyes. Was he really this stupid? "Leo, you're like a broken record. We've been over this – I can understand you're pissed at whoever –" Leo pressed his arm further into Chris' neck by way of getting him to be quiet and his words died in his throat.

"Shut up," before the ghost of a smile pulled at his expression, as if remembering something pleasant. "I went to see your little potions master yesterday."

The Visitor could feel the panic swell within Chris' mind instantaneously, but it didn't break out to his exterior. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah," Leo smiled, knowing he had the man cornered. "And that potion you just took? Wasn't quite the Empath-blocking potion you thought it was."

Chris blanched. "What did you do to it?"

Leo shrugged nonchalantly, all the while keeping Chris firmly pressed into the wall. "Oh, nothing major. Just substituted a few ingredients here and there – nymph root instead of Kotochul egg, that sort of thing." Chris didn't respond, trying to maintain a neutral air while alarm bells were ringing in all corners of his mind. "Instead of blocking an Empath's power it's designed to reveal what's _really_ going on in that head of yours, one way or another." Even he wasn't a hundred-percent sure of what effects to expect, the potions master had been very vague – but Leo would take any opportunity he could get to discover the ulterior motive he _knew_ was there. He was working in the sisters' best interests – they had to understand that. He stood back and released the Witchlighter, a triumphant air around him that only succeeded in infuriating the young man before him.

It was then that the Visitor felt the intense _resentment_ directed at Leo – it went beyond what he just did, beyond his desire to out Chris, it all felt part of a past that was still in Leo's future. There were reasons to hate this man that had nothing to do with the past few months, and that was what was surprising about it.

"You have no idea what you've just done," Chris snapped, his temper rising. The secrets he kept were secrets for a _reason_; could Leo really be that ignorant? Did he know nothing of future consequences? Damn it all, he didn't know there could be more reasons for him to hate the man in front of him.

Leo couldn't resist provoking him just that little bit more. "Why so worried, Chris?" He asked, raising his eyebrows. "Got something to hide?" That was the last straw, and in a blind fury Chris forgot his calm exterior and his cool indifference to everything that went on around him as he leaped forward, grabbing Leo by the shoulders and pushing him against the wall.

However, Leo's six-week stint with the Valkyries had done him wonders in his hand to hand combat, and he was besting Chris in moments – he threw a punch which Chris ducked, before charging at Leo's middle and pushing him against the sink. Holding Leo by the scruff of the neck he lifted his right arm to punch the man square in the face (a penance, of sorts, for all the wrongs he had done) when he suddenly felt his skin begin to prickle all over. His brief spout of vertigo had returned, but as he attempted to land the blow on Leo he found he couldn't control what he was doing. The Visitor, however, was now acutely aware of the fact that _he _could control where Chris threw his punch, his newfound outlet catching him off guard.

The Visitor was also on remarkably good terms with his father, so he found the idea of trying to sock him in the face a little difficult to comprehend and he hesitated – a second to long, as Leo pushed him back and threw a punch himself, hitting Chris with such force that the young man stumbled backwards and fell into the bath. Leo was seething, and was more than ready to pick Chris up for another round when the door to the bathroom burst open and Piper and Phoebe burst in.

"Woah, woah, woah," Piper gaped, taking in Chris sitting dazed in the bath and Leo standing over him. "Break it up, break it up!" She stepped forward to pull Leo aside as Phoebe checked to see if Chris was alright.

"What the hell is going on?" Phoebe directed the stern question at the two brawling men. She offered a hand for Chris to take, and the Visitor – still not used to this amount of control, took it. Leo was tight-lipped and stubborn, but resisted the urge to spit on Chris as he nodded over to him.

"Why don't you ask him?" He growled, shaking Piper's hand away from his arm.

The girls turned to look at Chris, and he could only blink – he didn't have any answers, and was trying to work out a solution to his own problem in record time. Where he should only be surveying and viewing the proceedings in front of him he was now a _part_ of them, while the real Chris manifested himself in the corner of his mind. There was one thing about the situation he did know, and he could only swallow as the sisters continued to look at him expectantly, not even realising he was an entirely different Chris from an entirely different future.

That _definitely_ wasn't supposed to happen.

* * *

**And thereee you have it. :) I hope the ending made sense, I had to rewrite it a few times until I had it written in a way I was actually satisfied with – but there we are, Chris is in the past! A few minor details I wanted to put out there; the past he's ended up in is based in between 'My Three Witches' and 'Soul Survivor', so obviously the sisters don't know who he is and on some level are still suspicious of his identity. If it wasn't obvious the italics were a flashback to when Chris met Bianca, and I've been thinking of putting a few of those in every couple of chapters – I feel like it creates a little background to everything. What do you think? Yes? No? Stupid idea?**

**QUESTION: What do you think has happened in the present – what's Bianca going to do now? And as for the past, what in Warren's name has happened to our Chris, or as we now know him, our Visitor?**

**I hope you enjoyed the chapter, I should have the next one up soonish. Happy reading!**

**Reviews are like your deepest fears to Barbas,**

**~MyWhitelighter**


	4. Assessing

**Hi there! Dreadfully sorry for the delay in update, I've been writing a few other things and my mind's been so frazzled with work recently. Still, here is the fourth chapter; it's a little short by my standards, but that was the best place to leave it off for me. Also, I got to 50 followers on this story! Yipee! *does a happy dance*. Thanks for all your support, guys!**

**IMPORTANT: I've decided to split the chapters alternately to save readers getting confused - this chapter will be about the past Chris in the future with Bianca, and the next will be about the future Chris stuck in the past with baby Wyatt and the sisters. But without further ado, here it is!**

* * *

**Chapter Four: Assessing**

**The Present;**

"This is getting boring now, Chris," Bianca sighed, running a finger along the edge of the knife blade. "Can you just give it up already?" From where he sat struggling on the floor beneath her it only took one look for her to know he _wasn't_ ready to give up, and she resisted the urge to stab the athame straight into the centre of his forehead – but even he wasn't worth that. He was currently sat unceremoniously on his front, Bianca's nimble form perched on his back to stop him from moving, and his hands pinned to the floor by heavy wrist braces she happened to have lying around.

The candles from before were still flickering, by now the wick's half burnt and the wax nothing more than a sludgy puddle beneath them, but their effect was the same – the thick haze in the room was enough to send people to sleep, or if nothing else at least make them drowsy. Bianca, of course, was immune (as she'd made sure to be before she set them up), but what was surprising her was Chris' resistance to them. Although his powers had been suitably weakened by their effects, he wasn't even slightly drowsy. Quite the contrary, he was energetic and eager to get to his feet and was angry at being pinned by the significantly smaller girl – who just so happened to be significantly more skilled in hand to hand combat.

"Get _off_ me demon!" Chris snarled, struggling once more, and Bianca paused in her action with the athame, choosing instead to throw it into the opposite wall which it pierced with a crack.

Losing her patience, her eyes narrowed at the boy beneath her. "Shut _up_, will you? You've been harping on about me being a demon for at _least_ twenty minutes now, when you're the one who attacked _me_. What the hell is wrong with you?"

Chris chose not to dignify her with a response, instead trying to struggle away from his restraints.

"It's no use, Chris. You've been trying for this long, and you're only weakening by the second. Now will you tell me what's going on?"

He growled something incoherent, before spitting out; "You're not real. I don't know what scam you're trying to pull, but just get me _out_ of here or I'll set the Charmed Ones on you."

Bianca raised an eyebrow. "Of course you will. Let's see... temporary amnesia? Or permanent – maybe my spell was more powerful than I thought. Who am I?"

"A demon," he glared.

"Wrong answer," she replied tightly. "Bianca, remember? Bee-anc-ah, Fee-nix." She spoke slowly as if she were trying to spell it out to a child, and Chris didn't seem to appreciate the condescension.

He wriggled once again. "I know whose _face_ you've stolen, but I know Bianca's dead."

She blinked. _That_ wasn't what she was expecting to hear.

"I'm right here, dumbass," she swatted him over the head with her hand. "What's the matter with you?" Chris squeezed his eyes shut. He wanted to believe her, he wanted to believe her _so_ much and stop struggling, but he'd watched the girl die at the hands of his own brother once, and had it replay in the corner of his mind enough times to know that hoping for any kind of survival on Bianca's part was futile. She was _dead_. And now the Universe was punishing him by sending a demon with her face to torture him.

Pausing in his struggles, he instead chose to take a look at his surroundings to potentially give himself a clue as to where he was. The room felt _familiar_, in a bizarre déjà vu kind of way, and he let his gaze skim over cabinets and dusty bookshelves before resting on a bed. _No, that's not right_, he thought. The bed was supposed to be on the _other_ side of the bedside cabinet; and the lamp had always had a blue shade, not green. Surprised at the thoughts coming from his subconscious before he could stop them, he suddenly realised he _had_ been there before. In another life, another time, one that felt so far away from where he was that he almost didn't realise it. This was Bianca's apartment.

Sure, it was different – furniture was in the wrong place, the walls were a slightly different colour, but he was sure this was the very room he'd spent countless afternoons with the witch who would become his fiancée, before Wyatt had burnt the place down in pursuit of members of the Resistance.

This was Bianca's room; intact.

And Bianca was in it.

The realisation made Chris stop moving completely, and turned to look up at the young girl giving him an odd look as if she were trying to decipher just what was going on in his mind. For a moment he couldn't breathe, he couldn't work out what was going on – some sort of conjured world, or a spell, or –

"Where am I?" He got out finally, feeling complete mesmerized in her everything.

Her eyebrows furrowed. "My flat," she answered, deciding that any attempt at sardonic humour would be lost on the confused boy sitting beneath her. He didn't say anything, simply swallowed, and averted his gaze. "Chris," she started, wanting to satisfy something of her own curiosity. "Who's Gideon?"

Then it all came rushing back.

Chris moved with such an abruptness that Bianca managed to fall off of him, giving him the time to quickly throw off one of the wrist braces and try to get to his feet. Before he could pull the other one off Bianca had pulled her athame from the wall with well-practiced speed and had him pressed up against the edge of the room with the blade tipped at his throat. "Who is Gideon?"

"You have to let me go," Chris pleaded. "Wyatt's in danger –"

"Wyatt?" Bianca frowned. "What from?"

"If I can't get to him then I can't protect him, _please_," if this was his Bianca, if this was the girl he'd been engaged to marry through some cruel twist of fate playing with his emotions, then she would let him go. She _had_ to.

She raised an eyebrow. "You know he hates it when you try and do that."

To this Chris could only watch her in confusion, and she felt like she needed to elaborate.

"He can look after himself – he _is_ eighteen." The pieces all finally clicked together, and the weight of what must have happened came crashing down onto him; if Wyatt was eighteen and not eighteen _months_, then he must be in the future of some kind. His eyes flickered back and forth as his mind raced. The reason Bianca's room was different, the reason Bianca was _here_ – he was in the future. Not his future, in his future this place was destroyed and Wyatt was twenty-four, but a future all the same. Bianca, on the other hand, was still completely nonplussed. "What the hell has gotten into you, Chris? What did that spell _do_?"

His ears perked up. "Spell? What spell?"

"_The_ spell," she replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "The one we cast only half an hour ago? Chains of time and space, etcetera. Don't you remember?"

Chris swallowed, the puzzle clicking into place in his mind. "I know this might be hard for you to believe," he started. "But – hey, could you just put that knife _down_ for a second?" He winced as she pushed the blade a little too far into his neck.

She was resolute. "Not until you tell me what's going on."

"I'm not – I'm not _your_ Chris," he began, still trying to pull himself around to the idea.

She snorted in response.

"I'm _serious_," he pressed. "I – I'm not from this timeline."

"Prove it."

He let out an exasperated grunt. "I don't know _how_," he protested.

"Well then, better find a way, because until then as far as I'm concerned _you_ could be the demon. I don't know what's happened to Chris, or who this Gideon guy is, but I'm going to work it out and put it right."

"Were you always this irritating, or is it just this timeline?" In response she pushed the blade further into his neck. "Just this timeline, then," his voice came out squeakier than he would have liked, but with sharp metal pressed up against his throat he couldn't exactly help it. "Gideon is – was the old Headmaster of Magic School, and he's after Wyatt. Or he was after Wyatt seventeen years ago."

He saw a flicker of recognition pass across Bianca's eyes. "The Elder, the one who tried to kill Wyatt," she murmured, the cogs beginning to whir in her mind.

"Tried?" Chris asked hopefully. "So he didn't succeed?" Without warning, Bianca's eyes widened and she released him, stepping back from him in horror.

"_You_," she gaped. "You're Big Chris!"

"Is that a euphemism or something?"

But she took no notice of him. "The spell I wrote was supposed to send Chris back to _you_, not bring you to us," she pressed a hand to her forehead. "Stupid, _stupid_ personal bloody gain!" In her distraction, Chris decided now was a good time to orb away – if he could just get to the sisters and explain to them what happened, then he was sure he could get sent back to wherever he was supposed to be. _Wherever that was_, he thought, realising with eerie clarity that apparently his old future had been erased. Now where was he supposed to be?

When he tried to orb out the room he was surprised to find he hadn't moved an inch. Bianca was still murmuring to herself and he realised it must be the fumes from all the candles – it was doing some sort of damage to his powers. Instead, he made a beeline for the door, but Bianca's reactions were too swift. In a moment he was pinned by the shoulder of his shirt to the wall by the athame, stunned in surprise. "I'd forgotten how good at that you were," he muttered.

"Just where do you think you're going?"

He scowled. "To the sisters, so I can get this thing sorted out. I get the gist of it – you and... _me_, cast a spell to send him back into the past to meet me, but you got me here instead. All I have to do is get them to write a reversal and we're free." There were too many 'me's' in that sentence.

"But you can't," she blurted out, and when he raised an eyebrow in question she swallowed. "If they find out I'm involved they'll have my head."

"I don't have to tell them it was you."

"I wrote the spell, Chris. They _know_ me, they'll know it was me." In truth she didn't think they'd find out, and she was certain they wouldn't try and hurt her, but she couldn't let him go – the alarm bells ringing in the back of her mind reminded her that this was her only chance to get what she wanted. Things may not have gone according to plan, but that didn't change the fact that this might be her only opportunity to complete the job she'd set out to do today. Suddenly, the idea of killing the boy standing before her made the bottom of her stomach plummet, as if now she'd been given the time to think about her actions and everything else, she wasn't sure if she could pull it off. And the longer she left it, the more reluctant she'd become, and she couldn't afford that. She couldn't afford _weakness_.

Chris, of course, knew nothing of this future or of this Bianca's relationship with his family, so accepted what she was saying without question. "But how are we supposed to _fix_ this then?" He sighed exasperatedly. "Surely that's more important."

She crossed the room in a few quick strides until she was standing in front of him, looking up at him with pleading eyes, a hesitant hand resting on his upper arm. Her Chris had always fallen for her act; why shouldn't this one? "You _can't_, please," she bit her lip. "They'll kill me Chris, I swear they'll kill me. They already think I'm evil, you're the only one who –" She allowed her bottom lip an effective wobble.

Chris was torn. Once upon another time this girl had meant everything to him – the engagement ring he wore around his neck would suggest she still _did_ – and the brief contact between her hand and his jacket was sending electricity shooting through him. The sheer disbelief that he'd ever get to experience touching her again keeping him rooted to the spot. He _needed_ to put things right, to sort it out and get back to where he belonged, but could he really disappoint her? Especially if her _life_ was at stake. He didn't know these Charmed Ones, their relationship to Bianca. He didn't know what they'd _do_.

"I..." He trailed off, mesmerised by her desperate expression. "I suppose we could work it out between us. Just the two of us." The relief was visible in her expression, and it was infectious. "But you need to start writing a reversal spell." She nodded and broke away, and he felt his heart tug at the loss of contact, which only served in reminding him that he didn't know this Bianca either. She wasn't _his_ Bianca. And he wasn't her Chris.

Damn the Universe.

* * *

"I can't believe I'm _seventeen_. As if this whole situation wasn't bad enough," he grumbled a few hours later. They'd tried everything they could think of – new spells, reversals, completely replicating the atmosphere of the time she'd first cast the spell, but nothing was working. With every failed attempt Chris could feel the panic rising in his throat. Suppose he ended up being stuck in this alternate future forever, where puberty was still a fresh memory and he had to relive nineteen which, as he recalled, had been hell for various reasons.

Although, he thought, as he watched Bianca lean over a bubbling potion, maybe this future wasn't all bad.

"Quit your complaining," she rolled her eyes, sprinkling some tongeon dust into the pot. It was one of the ingredients to the immunising potion she'd taken to make sure the candle fumes didn't affect _her_ powers – she was clutching at straws here, but they were running out of options. "How old are you supposed to be, anyway?"

Chris grumbled mutinously. "Twenty-two. Three," he corrected. "The day I left was my birthday."

"How quaint."

"_Literally_, my birthday. The day I was born."

"Must have been exciting for you to see it from a different angle."

At this he frowned, remembering that they were all far too worried about the alignment of the world becoming far too _good_ and carefree for them to think all that much about the birth itself. "I don't think I got to see it," he frowned, trying to remember what had happened before he woke up inside Bianca's ring of candles. The memories from then were growing fainter and fuzzier, and that worried him.

Bianca shot him a side-along glance as she stirred the pot, her curiosity piqued. "So where were you before you were... here?"

He closed his eyes in concentration, trying to think. "I was... I was watching Wyatt, Dad was going after Gideon," he paused. "But Gideon found us anyway. I remember trying to stop him, and –" For the first time since he'd arrived, he felt a jolt of pain shoot through him from his side and he cried out.

"Chris?" Bianca asked, concerned, but he wasn't listening. He was instead lifting up the hem of his shirt to take a look at the spot just above his abdomen, decorated with a sparkling purple bruise. He reached out a tentative hand to touch it, and winced – he couldn't believe he hadn't felt it hurt before now, now that the sensation was throbbing across his consciousness. "When did that happen?" His companion gaped.

He swallowed. "When Gideon stabbed me," he murmured. "Dad and Phoebe were crying, and then..."

Bianca waited on him continuing with baited breath. "Then?"

"Floating," he blinked, surprised. "I just remember floating. And then I was here." Bianca connected the dots – not only had she brought the future Chris back to them, but she'd also brought him back after he _died_. That did beg the question over what was happening to her Chris at the moment, wherever he was. Hopefully he wasn't trapped floating somewhere as Chris was describing, and in that moment Bianca didn't think she could hate herself more for manipulating the situation to work in her favour. She knew having Chris dead was what she needed, but not like _thi_s. On her own terms and with her athame, that was the only way she would accept. She couldn't allow herself to go soft.

"Well, we wouldn't want you to miss out on prime floating time," she replied crisply, moving the conversation along. "Pass me the doxy wings, would you?"

"Am I dead, Bianca?"

The question dropped like a hammer in the air between them. She paused in her stirring, but her hesitation was all he needed. "Doxy wings," she pressed, and he obliged numbly. He was dead. He had given his life to save the future, to protect Wyatt. While he'd always been prepared for the idea of it, he had never expected to have to be informed of his own passing by a third party.

_At least he knew where he belonged now_.

"I have to go out," Bianca suddenly spoke up abruptly, and he started.

"Where to?" He asked in confusion.

She chose not to reply and turned the stove off, leaving the pot to cool. "You're the dead one. _I_ still have a life to live."

That stung, but he concealed his hurt behind his usual icy exterior. "It's two in the morning," he pointed out with bite in his tone, but she ignored him. "Well what am I supposed to do then?"

"I don't know, write a bucket list?" She was trying to brush him off the quickest way she knew how – through hurt. She wouldn't have gotten the summons from her employer for no reason, and she couldn't afford to blow the hooded man off. "I'll be back soon." Before he could voice any further protest her coat was on and she was out the door, leaving him standing in the hallway aimlessly. What on earth was he supposed to do with himself now?

He wandered away from the kitchen and back into her bedroom, using the time alone in the flat to idly examine the parts of it that had changed. He had plenty of memories of sitting in that very room, chattering an afternoon away, trying to make the best of what they had – before his eighteenth birthday, before the four-year anniversary of Piper's death. Where everything had gone wrong. Well, more wrong than things had been already, but that was the deciding moment; when it wasn't just him that knew it, but _everyone_ found out that Wyatt wasn't-quite-right. Something had always been stirring underneath the surface of him, Chris had always known that, and following Piper's death it had slowly begun to creep its way out into the open; it was only ever a matter of time, and that day it had finally broken through.

He ran a finger along the edge of one of the bookshelves, grimacing at the dust that came away with it. It felt like this place hadn't even been entered, let alone lived in for _years_. He knew why, of course; Bianca's tumultuous relationship with her mother was something he was sure hadn't changed in this future, and her penchant for staying out of the house was clearly something she'd been keeping up. Everything felt so _familiar_, and he realised with a tug at his chest that a part of him missed his future. Missed knowing everything, being aware of everything he'd grown up with – as bleak as it was, it had been home. It always had been.

Now, of course, it didn't exist.

This Bianca barely spared him a sideways thought, and he surmised she probably wasn't likely to be romantically inclined to him either. He supposed saving her life from Wyatt when they were fifteen never happened, seeing as in this future his brother wouldn't be the ruthless dictator he had come to know in his own. _Wyatt_. It felt like only moments ago he'd been holding his older brother as a baby, protecting him from the forces of evil out to destroy him. He'd done it. It was over; Wyatt was safe.

Relief shook him and he felt his limbs tremble with the knots in his heart slowly beginning to undo themselves – he didn't need to worry anymore, they'd managed to _do_ it. To create a wonderful future where San Francisco was in one piece and demons were where they belonged, in the Underworld. Part of him wanted to call for Wyatt at that moment, just to see what the boy – no, _young man _– would be like. Of course he couldn't but the temptation was there.

Feeling suddenly very tired and overwhelmed, he allowed himself to sink down onto the edge of Bianca's bed. It had been evening when he'd arrived, and they'd been working for hours already and he was finally beginning to feel the toll of it. He lay back, gaze wandering to the clock lying atop the bedside table. 2:12 am. That was all the justification he needed, and in moments his eyes had closed and he was drifting into a dreamless sleep, his thoughts awash with an emptiness he knew came with the floating sensation he'd begun to fear.

* * *

When he awoke, Bianca still wasn't back. He rubbed his eyes at the sunlight streaming in through the windows and stretched, feeling distinctly uncomfortable and grotty after having slept in his clothes and in an awkward position. He blinked, wondering if her shower was in the same place and whether she had any clothes he could borrow, but he wasn't left to his thoughts for long.

With a familiar jingling noise, he saw the flash of blue and white lights in front of him, and the figure that stood there sternly with his arms folded took all the air from his lungs with a single look.

Wyatt.

His hair wasn't long, and his expression wasn't a permanent sneer. He was clean shaven and neat, and he could make out smile lines along the edge of his jaw to the point where he knew he spent a lot of time grinning, even if he wasn't at the moment. His clothes were modest at best, just a simple green sweater and a pair of jeans, and he was watching Chris with such a warm familiarity that the boy didn't know quite what to do. He wasn't used to it.

"What in Elders' name are you doing here?" It was wrought with accusation, and Chris could only blink. Because, truthfully, he didn't really know where else he should be. The manor, presumably? Yet here he was, sat in Bianca's bedroom on Bianca's bed and looking decidedly guilty.

He settled for being as evasive as he could. "Isn't it obvious?" He raised an eyebrow, wondering if Wyatt would catch the innuendo. Telling Wyatt about the whole cast-a-spell-to-meet-past-Chris-and-now-he's-in-the-future-with-no-clue-what-he's-doing probably fell under the same umbrella as the sisters: meaning, he shouldn't tell him.

He could tell by Wyatt's nose wrinkling in disgust that he'd said the wrong thing – but perhaps, maybe even the right thing as he seemed to accept it.

"You spent the night here?"

Chris shrugged airily, not wanting to give any solid answers when he wasn't even sure what his relationship with Bianca _was_ in this time. "I needed a break."

For some reason Wyatt accepted this, and glanced around the room. "Where's Bianca?"

"She went out." _Seven hours ago_.

"How was your date?" He asked, and although Chris could tell he was doing his best to sound disapproving, there was a warmth in his eyes that told another story. Had he and Bianca been on a date, then? Or was that simply a ruse for disguising the casting of the spell?

Chris got up from the bed at this point, wanting to occupy himself with something if he was being subjected to a third degree. "Fine," he replied, not giving too much away and hoping that was normal behaviour.

Apparently it was, but Wyatt still eyed him curiously. "Are you okay?"

"Never better," he smiled, smoothing down his hair in a mirror, feeling quite the opposite as his heart raced a mile a minute.

"Anyway, I hate to drag you away from... whatever you were doing," Wyatt cringed at the thought, throwing a despairing look at the bed. Chris rolled his eyes. "But are you all set to go?"

This alarmed him; he wasn't ready to go anywhere. "Go where?" He tried to keep the panic from his tone, feeling like a deer caught in the headlights.

Wyatt raised an eyebrow. "The Enchanted Forest? Investigation work?" Chris stared at him blankly. "The missing nymphs?"

"_Oh_," Chris emphasised it, as if he were remembering something he'd merely temporarily forgotten rather than walking completely blind through the conversation. Bloody hell, pretending to be _himself _shouldn't be as hard as it felt. "Of course, yeah. The Enchanted Forest, I remember."

His brother decided to brush off Chris' forgetfulness thankfully, and carried on. "Well then, let's go!"

Panic shot through him, and he glanced at the door to the flat. Bianca still hadn't returned.

"Can it wait?"

Wyatt rolled his eyes, mistaking Chris' unease for something else. "She'll be here when you get back, Chris. I'm sure she won't mind parting with you for a couple of hours."

He resisted the urge to snap irritably at him, but realised he should try and stay in character of this Chris. "Don't be daft," he rolled his eyes.

"_Please_, Chris," Wyatt persisted. "You promised you would, and this is important. Something's up, and we can't just ignore it for the sake of you spending more time with your _girlfriend_." Something about the way Wyatt said it suggested he and Bianca were probably anything but, but he did recognise the worry laced in his brother's tone. Whatever this was it was important to him, and quite likely it was important to this Chris too – he couldn't just leave it. Especially if a nymph's life was at stake.

He relented. "Alright," he glanced around the apartment to look for some way to leave Bianca some kind of message, but on finding none rubbed the back of his head and searched for an excuse. "Uh, just let me go for a shower first, I just woke up. I'll meet you there?"

Wyatt shot him a curious look. "Fine," before wrinkling his nose playfully – the sight of it almost knocked the wind out of Chris. "Probably a good idea, you smell like a troll."

"Oh, shut up."

His brother grinned, a dazzling toothy thing that lit up his face in ways Chris hadn't seen since he was thirteen, before he waved. "See you in a bit." He disappeared in a flurry of white lights, and Chris visibly sagged. Seeing Wyatt so carefree and happy elated him and disturbed him in so many ways, but he couldn't worry about that at the moment – if he and Bianca were to remain undetected, he'd have to pretend to be this Chris to appease Wyatt for now.

Deciding he probably _did _need a shower, he wrote Bianca a quick note telling her he was headed to the Enchanted Forest with Wyatt and hopped in, wondering as he let the warm water run over him how in Halliwell's name he was going to pull this off. He was _so_ screwed. As he finally helped himself to a fresh pair of clothes from what he recognised as her father's old closet after stepping out, he felt like making the final decision to orb away was like he were signing his own death warrant.

The notion had him hesitating mid-movement. Oh, the irony.

_Definitely_ screwed.

* * *

**Sorry it's a little short, but some important things happen this chapter! :D So next up we see what's happening to our Chris who's been flung into the past, so keep an eye open for that. While I'm still stuck in my giddy-happy-daze at having gained fifty followers (holy shiz you guys, thank you 3), I'd love to hear what you guys have to say! Your opinions really inspire me and motivate me to improve as a writer, not to mention provide all the muse for writing each chapter. **

**QUESTION: Where is Bianca? Will Chris survive the whole day without slipping up in the Enchanted Forest? Predictions for how our other Chris is faring in the past?**

**Reviews are like coffee in the morning to Prue Halliwell,**

**~MyWhitelighter **


	5. Overwhelming

**Hullo again! Yikes, I know, it's been far too long since I last updated, and I'm very grateful for your patience - my only excuse is ****_life_****. I've nearly finished with all my exams (understandably my future is a higher priority for me than Chris Halliwell's) so updates should be more frequent from now. In any case, I'm glad you all seem to be enjoying the story so far. All your reviews and follows and favourites really help me drive this story somewhere - it'd be nothing without your support, so thank you again. This chapter is based in the past, and we're looking at what happened to the Chris who cast the spell! That in mind, I hope you like the chapter! Let me know all your thoughts. :D**

**IMPORTANT: All flashbacks are ****_always_**** about the Chris from the changed future.**

* * *

**Chapter Five: Overwhelming**

_Flashback;_

_He could only stand petrified as he stared into the darkened face of the stranger – he wasn't unafraid, he wasn't naive enough to regard the man that stood before him arrogantly, but he didn't cry. Perhaps if he had cried help would have come to him sooner, but he wasn't thinking of that. Instead he stood mesmerised, his back pressed against the wall and his eyes wide and receptive, like pools of deep jade untouched and unblinking and awaiting the stranger's next move. He advanced and Chris flinched, his small hands tensing in their position against his bedroom wall and his mouth hanging half open as if to call for someone, but he hesitated. A sneer pulled at the lip of the stranger and he knew._

_This must be a demon._

_The crackle of an energy ball could be heard and panic rose within him; he knew he should do what Wyatt did and he should call for help, but his five-year-old mind couldn't process what he _should_ be doing, and he instead felt the tears. Silently they slid down the side of his cheek and his nails dug painfully into his palm, still awaiting the move of the stranger. _

_"Chris?"_

_The voice had he and the stranger both turning toward the doorway, the spell broken and Chris choked in wonder and relief as his father appeared in the doorway, his expression immediately morphing into one of fierce protectiveness as he realised there was a stranger standing in his son's bedroom._

_"Piper!" He called immediately, but even without powers he leapt at the stranger without a second thought, tackling him straight into the chest of drawers and the surprise left the energy ball dissipating into thin air, winding him momentarily. Leo grabbed the object closest to him, a lamp, and smashed it on the demon's head before he was thrown telekinetically backwards into the wall._

_Chris, silent, watched on in horror._

_Years later he would wonder why he didn't move, why he didn't do everything in his power to protect the father he adored when any year after that the witchlighter could be seen doing exactly that – his first confrontation with a demon had left him rooted to the spot. Up until then, demons had only been stories he'd heard about and vague occupants of adult conversations; whenever one was supposedly around he'd always been taken to Magic School so fast he'd begun to doubt their very existence, but there it was. Undeniable evidence of the very real danger his parents wanted to protect him from, standing hunched over and winded in the middle of his own bedroom._

_It scared him. He could feel blood dripping from his palm his nails had dug in so deep._

_Of course, the demon had chosen the wrong child to attack – it had always been and would always be a suicide mission to head into the Halliwell manor alone, and Piper was at the door in moments blowing him up and sending him to whatever dark place he came from, but that wasn't their concern. Their concern was their son, stood still against the wall with obvious tear tracks and a face as white as a sheet. Leo was back on his feet rubbing his neck and Piper, assured that Leo would look after him, was heading to phone Phoebe and get a hold of Paige to work out who had dared try and hurt a Halliwell._

_Leo was placing a kiss on his forehead and drawing him into a tight hug before Chris could really comprehend what was happening. "Are you okay?" He was asking. "Did he hurt you?"_

_Chris shook his head; he didn't trust his voice._

_"Are you sure?"_

_This time he nodded._

_"Oh thank goodness," Leo let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "Chris, you have to promise me you'll shout my name as loud as you can the next time there's a strange man around you don't recognise."_

_Again, he nodded his head._

_"Promise me, Chris."_

_He hesitated. "I promise," he whispered, throwing his arms back around Leo's neck. "Daddy," he started, feeling tears well up again as he leaned close to Leo's ear, as if imparting some great secret. "I'm so scared."_

_"Don't be, little man," Leo was quick to reassure him, the endearment flowing quickly off the tongue. "The bad demon's gone, alright? Mommy vanquished him. We will _never_ let anything happen to you, I promise." Chris swallowed, he was still shaken up, but the way his tiny arms tightened around his father seemed to give off some form of gratitude. "Now come on, let's go get some ice cream and calm you down, then how about a trip to Magic School?"_

_He said it as if Chris had a choice, but he knew once the words Magic School were spoken he'd be spending the next few hours having fun in the playroom, so he didn't exactly mind. And two days later with the incident far behind him, as he played tag with Wyatt around the manor he could barely even remember what had happened. The reassurance that his father would always be there to protect him was enough to take away any of the fear he might have in any future demon attacks he'd have to bear witness to until he could defend himself._

_'We will_ never_ let anything happen to you.'_

* * *

**The Past;**

Leo materialized down in the Underworld still running on adrenaline from his encounter with Chris back at the manor – he had been trying to provoke him of course, but ideally into admitting something rather than flat-out lunging at him as he had and taking him off guard. If his patience ran out _that_ quickly it only made him all the more worried about him being around the sisters. He'd said it a hundred times before but he really could be dangerous; especially with whatever potion was running through his system.

In hindsight it potentially hadn't been one of his finest moments, even though he knew the Whitelighter was hiding something. Going to the Potion's Sorcerer and giving Chris a potion that he wasn't entirely sure of the effects didn't exactly cry out responsible Elder decisions, but there was something about him that always made him apprehensive. It went beyond his trip to Valhalla and the part he was sure Chris had played since he found the Valkyrie pendants, it was his secretiveness and lack of information given about whatever dark future he'd come back from.

And maybe, said a small voice in the back of the Elder's mind, it was jealousy of his position of ease with the family. With _his _family. Maybe with Chris exposed for the liar he was he'd be free to return to some semblance of normality with the wife he'd been forced to leave, the son he missed terribly and the sisters who had become his own. Although Leo knew that could never happen, it didn't stop the fixation on outing Chris. He needed to do _something_ to stop himself thinking about all he'd lost.

It was with more apprehension than blind anger that he approached the Sorcerer for the second time that day. Where the man had chosen to set up shop was one of the dingier parts of the Underworld, but he was glad for the solitude it provided – if word got out about how much time a certain Elder spent in the Underworld while trying to tail a certain Whitelighter, he wasn't sure it would go down well with the rest of the council. He could hear water dripping from some unknown corner, and accompanied with the distinct smell of damp and decay he had to wonder if once a river had flown through there. Nothing was too outrageous where the Underworld was concerned.

Seeing the old man hunched over one of his cauldrons, one hand delicately holding a bottle and the other a ladle from which he poured with a dexterity Leo hadn't thought him capable of.

"Are you not satisfied?" The man looked up from what he was doing, showing Leo that familiar gap toothed grin.

He shook his head. "Not at all, you've been incredibly helpful."

The man tilted his head. "Then why are you returned, oh Wise One?"

"I just wanted to know what I should expect," he supplied. "From the potion. I mean, how long will it take for the effects to be visible?"

The Sorcerer smiled again, the dimples around his eyes showing an age beyond what his appearance would suggest. "How long is Red String of Fate?" At this Leo conceded, putting his hands in his pocket and dropping his gaze to the bubbling potion in front of the man. "Wart shrinking," he said. "Many witches much more vain than yours."

"Mine?" Leo questioned with a frown. They weren't his anymore. The man simply offered another smile before returning to his work.

Going back to the original reason he was there he looked back up. "I know you told me the potion you gave me was designed for revealing secrets, but I was hoping you might have some answers on the how. What should I be looking for? How do I tell if he's telling the truth?"

The man shook his head. "You ask me for truth-telling potion, _that_ what I give you. Are all witches the same?"

"Of course not."

"Then are all potions the same?" The man looked at him expectantly and Leo shifted under his interrogating gaze.

"You're right, I'm sorry. I don't mean to belittle your craft. I'm just a little... worried."

The Sorcerer raised an eyebrow. "Now he feels remorse?"

Leo shot him a withering look. "This wasn't a good idea. I'm concerned about side effects." Such as hesitating before a punch, or that look that had passed across Chris' vision back in the bathroom. He couldn't explain it, but something had shifted and he didn't like it – he wasn't the type of person to act so irrationally, and his remorse was the price of it. The only good thing that might come of it was finally discovering Chris' secrets, and how much of a threat he could be to the girls.

He couldn't afford to doubt, he had to stick with his plan or Chris had already won half the battle. He was untrustworthy and Leo knew it, he just had to prove it.

"Deepest secrets are the ones no one knows they are keeping," the Sorcerer sprinkled some powder into his cauldron and opened his mouth to reveal the same gap-toothed smile. "Be careful, Leo Wyatt. Or secrets will consume you."

Leo hesitated. "What do you mean?"

He wasn't forthcoming with anything else, and slipped into silence as he poured the solution from the ladle and into a bottle. "You want some?"

"Excuse me?"

"Wart shrinking. You want some?"

Leo gave the sludgy green solution one look before deciding he'd rather pass.

* * *

"He just attacked you?" Piper repeated, her tone dripping with scepticism. "He just leapt at you with a toothbrush and a bar of soap?"

Chris hissed as she pressed a bag of cold peas into the growing lump on his forehead. "Yes, he just attacked me. Out of nowhere."

"You didn't provoke him?"

"No!"

Phoebe re-entered the kitchen with a smile. "Maybe he used up all his hair gel. Leo gets really touchy about his L.A. Looks." Chris rolled his eyes, but inwardly he was in a complete panic. After Leo had orbed out in a huff after their confrontation had been interrupted, the sisters had ushered Chris downstairs demanding what had happened, and he'd simply spouted the first thing that came to mind seeing as he was trying to wrap his head around the situation himself.

He cast a spell with Bianca that would take him to the past so he could view the other Chris' life and see what he did in the past. For the first twenty minutes it had worked as it should – just like what Phoebe had told him when she cast the spell. He was simply a voyeur, seeing everything the other Chris saw and feeling everything the other Chris felt, but not being able to do anything himself. He was a visitor in Chris' mind, and he assumed when the time was right he would simply slip back into his body in the future with Bianca as Phoebe had when she'd been looking at her past life. As was often the case with magic, though, something had gone wrong.

In the midst of the fight with Leo he'd suddenly felt a tingling sensation, and all of a sudden he was a visitor no longer – he was in control. It was _his_ body. And the punch Leo landed to the spot just above his eye that sent him sailing back into the bath stung a lot more than it would have five minutes earlier. His mind was in overdrive; this wasn't his body. This wasn't his time. Wyatt, who he'd seen in passing, wasn't even a year old yet and sat toddling around his playpen. He hadn't even been _conceived_, and he had no idea how to get back to where he should be.

Not to mention everything was... weird. For one, his mother and aunts represented everything he'd only ever seen in pictures – Paige with her ginger hair, Phoebe with her cropped, and his mother. Well, she looked incredible.

But she had no idea who he was.

Judging by Leo's animosity towards him and the nonchalance of the sisters he could only imagine he had arrived at a time before they knew his identity as Piper's son – perhaps even before they even _trusted_ him. Looking at them and not seeing any of the warmth and recognition he'd come to expect staring back at him rocked him far more than he would admit, and being punched in the face by his own father had all but winded him physically and emotionally, but how could he blame them? For a moment he could see what the future Chris had gone through to change the past and create a better future for everyone. The way he'd had to act to ensure the creation of that better future. A better future that he was part of, and a better future that was put in jeopardy just because of his selfish spell.

He had to assume it was the spell that had caused him to take control like that, a price for personal gain. It was either that or the potion Leo had supposedly spiked; anything was fair game in this unfamiliar past. And he was terrified of saying anything that could change the course of history and change where he'd come from into a future he didn't recognise when he worked out how to return.

"You okay there, Chris?" Paige's voice cut across his consciousness, waving a hand in front of his face.

He blinked. "Oh, yeah, I'm fine. Just a little sore. Ouch!" He slapped Piper's hand away after she pressed a little too hard on his bump with the frozen peas.

"Alright, you do it. I've got some demons to scry for." With that she marched from the kitchen on her way to the sunroom, where she'd left the map and the scrying crystal and the Book resting on the low table.

"Demons?" Chris' eyes widened in alarm; this was the last thing he needed.

Phoebe's eyebrows furrowed in concern. "How hard did he hit you?"

"This is so unlike Leo," Paige tutted from where she'd folded her arms across the counter. "So much for the passive non-violence." It went unspoken between the sisters that they suspected Leo's time at Valhalla might have affected him more than they initially realised.

This was all too weird for Chris – his parents weren't together. His aunts were young women without the husbands or children he knew as uncles and cousins, and he could well be stuck in the past. He stood up, but he felt dizzy and disoriented and fell back into his chair.

Phoebe was at his side in moments. "Maybe you should sit this one out, Chris. Go lie down – I'm getting a lot of confused feelings from you and it's messing with my head a little."

Chris could only nod resignedly, not entirely sure what was going on anymore. "We've got the vanquishing potion, we'll call for Leo if we need anything, 'kay?" Paige gave him a thumbs up before following in the direction Piper had just left, and Phoebe gave his shoulder an affectionate squeeze before doing the same.

"I mean it, go get some rest. You're white as a sheet."

He'd decided her suggestion sounded like a superb plan until he could sort his head out, but after wobbling as far as the room he remembered to be his bedroom and opening it to find it coloured a significantly pale pink and decorated with floral patterns that he'd never let anywhere near his walls, he was reminded that the walls and the whole room didn't even belong to him yet. He suddenly felt very ill. Moving as fast as he could into the bathroom he trembled as he retched into the bowl, not sure he'd ever felt sorrier for himself than he did at that moment.

"You won't get away with this."

Chris nearly jumped five feet in the air; he wasn't alone. Standing up shakily and pulling the chain he looked around, but there was no one else in the bathroom, not even behind the shower curtain. Dismissing it as something to attribute to his delirium he poured himself a glass of water to gargle and wash his mouth out, and only froze mid-spit as he realised his reflection wasn't – well, reflecting.

Instead he was confronted with an image of himself standing there stonily, arms folded and glaring out at him. "Enjoying that bump?" The Reflection raised an eyebrow with the ghost of a smirk.

"Ex – excuse me?" Chris gaped. "Who are you?"

"The guy you stole a body from, you bastard. And when the sisters find out, we're going to kick your demon ass so far into hell even the Underworld won't want you."

Now this was making his head hurt.

He shook his head, trying to find the words to prove the Reflection wrong. "I'm not a demon, I swear – I'm you. From the future. The other future. Oh, damn all this."

The Reflection continued to look completely unconvinced.

"I don't even know if I understand this myself. I cast a spell to view a past life, and found myself here," he could afford to be a little withholding with the details; not to mention he wanted to avoid changing the past as much as possible. If this Reflection was the Big Chris he'd come back to the past to see, he couldn't tell him anything about the way events would go, or there might not be anything for him to go back to. The dizziness was slowly ebbing away and making way for a clearer head, a sharper mind. He couldn't flounder around feeling sorry for himself – this was no different from a normal demon situation, he just had to find his way out of it. "But this wasn't supposed to happen. I was supposed to just be _watching_ you, inside your mind, you weren't supposed to see me."

Understanding flickered across the Reflections features, but he still looked sceptical. "Like the spell Phoebe once cast."

Chris nodded. "Exactly. Designed to observe, not control."

"If you're telling the truth, then explain to me why I'm stuck in the mirror and you _are_ in control?"

Here he had nothing to add – something had gone wrong, whether it was personal gain or Leo's potion, but he had no concrete answers to offer and ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "I don't know. I thought it might be the potion Leo gave you earlier, maybe it switched us around or something."

The Reflection tapped his fingers impatiently against his arm. "And why should I believe you? For all I know you're a demon taking advantage of the circumstances." The steely glare coming from what he perceived as himself was chilling.

Chris groaned; if he couldn't prove his identity to _himself_, how was he supposed to prove it to anyone else? After all, the easiest way to get back to his own time was surely to just inform the sisters about what had happened and get them to write a spell sending him back. But if he was right about which point in history he'd intruded on, it might be a far cry to get them to believe him on anything – then it occurred to him.

"I know why you're here," Chris looked back to the Reflection, whose eyebrows shot to his hairline. "I know the real reason you came back in time – to stop Wyatt."

The Reflection's face remained blank with a practiced ease. "What are you on about?"

"Don't bother, I know because I'm _you_," Chris snapped, and the Reflection bristled. "I'm from your changed future, I know how –"

"Don't!" The Reflection held up an alarmed hand and cut him off. "What are you, stupid? Don't tell me anything, or it could change the future. We just need to reverse this."

Chris hesitated. "So you believe me?"

The Reflection ground his teeth in frustration. "I don't trust you, but I don't want to mess with the future on the off-chance you're telling the truth. I don't know how the hell you know about Wyatt but I could care less – as long as you want to get _out_ of my body as much as I wish I could punch you in the face right now."

Well, it didn't sound overly promising, but it was a start. "I do," Chris agreed. "I need to get back to my own time."

"Then we share a common goal. Listen, we need to get this done fast. I know a couple of people who can help –"

Chris held up a hand. "Why not just ask the sisters to write a spell or something?"

The Reflection raised an eyebrow. "Are you crazy? They're useless and busy demon hunting; we don't need to tell them anything." Chris was taken aback – useless? Did he just call his mother and aunts _useless_? He had to admit, he wasn't all that impressed with this version of himself the sisters were always singing the praises of. He was an _ass_. Seemingly sensing Chris' vexation on their behalf, the Reflection sighed irritably. "What makes you think they'd even believe you? They don't trust me, so they don't trust _you_. Now are you going to help me fix this or am I going to have to assume you're definitely a demon?"

This he had to concede, and poured himself another glass of water to try and aid in recovering a level head. In the short amount of time he'd spent observing the Chris-turned-reflection and his interactions with the sisters it was easy to see how much effort he put into guarding his secrets, and his mind. He'd gone to great lengths to detach himself from them so he could be as ruthless as was necessary for his mission in the past; to stop Wyatt, whatever the cost. But it wasn't Chris' timeline, and it certainly wasn't Chris' mission – and the longer the Reflection spent staring out at him from the glass, the less chance that mission had of being completed. There was no time to waste gawking about his situation, only that they reversed it as soon as possible.

He no longer hesitated. "Just tell me where to go."

* * *

"Knock knock," Leo pushed open the door to the manor a little hesitantly, mindful of the warnings Piper had given him about orbing into the manor unannounced. The last thing he wanted to do was get further onto the sisters' bad side after his confrontation with Chris that morning. "Anybody home?"

The hallway was deserted, and likewise the sitting room, but the Book of Shadows lying open on the table in the sunroom and the left over steaming pots on the stove in the kitchen were the only telltale signs Leo needed of them being on a demon hunt. It felt odd, and as he walked through the house alone he couldn't help but feel deflated at them dealing with whatever it was without his careful consultation anymore – it was still a raw and fresh feeling, and he didn't like it. Footsteps echoing as he mounted the stairs he headed along the landing into Wyatt's room, where he lay sleeping peacefully inside his crib.

"Hey," he smiled as Wyatt stirred after he entered the room. "Hey, c'mere you." The fact that Wyatt had been left suggested the sisters would be back in a matter of minutes – Piper wouldn't leave him alone for long if her life depended on it. He reached down and lifted him into his arms with a smile, playing with the boy's open hand as he giggled gleefully at having his father back for however short a time it was. "Daddy's never going to let anything happen to you, you know that?" He pressed a kiss to the side of the Wyatt's face, but the peace wasn't destined to last long.

He heard voices from the room next door, Phoebe's room, and curiously he pushed it open. They were coming from the en suite, and he was about to knock and investigate (the bathroom wasn't the _usual _place for a conversation in the Halliwell household) when Chris came charging out so fast he nearly knocked into the pair of them.

"Chris," he greeted curtly.

Chris seemed to hesitate momentarily over his response. "Leo," he spared Wyatt a small look before turning away. "I've got to go."

"In a hurry?"

"Yes," he replied irritably. "So I better do just that."

Leo's eyes narrowed. "Who were you talking to just now?"

Alarm flickered across his expression for the briefest of moments before he regained his composure, but that was all Leo needed. He wondered if it was the effects of the potion – Chris' carefully crafted mask was already beginning to fall away. "Nobody."

"I heard voices," he persisted. Wyatt gurgled something incoherent while tugging at Leo's ear.

"You might want to get that looked at. Now if you don't mind, I've already gotten one bruise today from talking to you and I have literally no interest in making it symmetrical." He pushed past Leo out into the hallway and the Elder ground his teeth together – it was like he went out of his way to irritate him, or he knew exactly what would get at him as going out of his way to injure the younger Whitelighter was not something he did very often. It was a brief loss of composure and a bad decision from the get go, and he regretted it; but that didn't mean he would put aside his natural suspicions of Chris just out of guilt.

Without preamble he followed him across the landing to the stairs. "Where are the sisters?"

"How should I know?"

Leo growled. "You're their _Whitelighter_, Chris. Do I need to remind you what that means?"

Chris ignored him and carried on into the sunroom, but hesitated for the smallest of moments after he caught his reflection in one of the mirrors. Leo rolled his eyes inwardly – he was already a liar, and a proud one at that, and now he could just add vanity to the list of things he disliked about him. "What are you looking up? Something the sisters are doing?" He asked, when Chris came to stop by the Book of Shadows. Instead the younger man clenched his jaw.

"Leo, I really don't have time for you to be my babysitter. _Please_, go find something else to do." Leo was half tempted to do as he'd asked, knowing it was still none of his business what the sisters were doing, but there was still the other matter to consider. Instead he headed over to the playpen and placed Wyatt carefully inside, giving him a kiss on the forehead as he drew back.

"Are you, erm," he headed back over and Chris looked up at him blankly. "Are you okay?"

This seemed to surprise him. "I'm fine, why?"

Leo blinked – he'd been expecting a far more ferocious reply about minding his own business, but shrugged it off. "No headaches, dizziness... influenza?"

Chris seemed to ponder this for a moment as his hand hovered in mid-air, in the middle of turning one of the yellowed pages of the Book. Then he sighed. "Actually Leo, you know I could kill for some aspirin. Would you mind orbing upstairs and getting me some?" Puzzled by the request, the older man blinked.

"Sure," anything to alleviate his guilt. "I'll be right back." He orbed back to the bathroom to retrieve what the other Whitelighter had wanted, sure that whatever Chris was planning couldn't be executed in the twenty second break between him leaving the sunroom and returning, but evidently he'd underestimated him.

When he got back the sunroom was empty, and when he looked to the Book he saw it was neatly shut, meaning he wasn't going to be getting any clues as to Chris' destination. With a sigh of frustration he threw the aspirin out into the hallway. What had he _done_ to get himself so mixed up? He was a walking contradiction; suspicion, guilt. Sorrow and envy – a love for a family and nowhere to give it. Wyatt waved from where he sat in the playpen, and Leo could feel his frustration ebbing away slowly as he remotely orbed Wyatt back into his crib upstairs so he could get back to his business. It wouldn't take too long for the sisters to get back, and it would be better if he left before then.

No such luck.

The door to the manor burst open accompanied by a few distinctly recognizable shrieks as the three sisters charged into the house, heading straight for the sunroom and the Book. "Book of Shadows!" Piper shouted, and Leo immediately dropped into crisis mode.

"What do you need?" A crash from the hallway had him instinctively ducking, and it became clear they hadn't come alone – the roar that seemed to arrive simultaneously with the crash further proved it.

"No time, cover – go!" Paige cried, but only Phoebe followed the order and ducked down beside Leo who had already leapt behind one of the sofas, the Book bundled into his arms. Paige and Piper remained in the doorway, confronting whatever had intruded across the manor's threshold. "Lamp!" He could hear Paige shout, and it disappeared in a flash of blue orbs only to materialize somewhere out of side to the so far faceless demon, or demons, Leo hadn't seen yet.

There was the sound of Piper's combustion power and she growled. "_Not_ my clarkias you bastards!"

"Chris!" Phoebe yelled from where she sat, reaching for the Book and madly scrolling through the pages to try and identify the demon they were dealing with.

"He's gone, but I'm here," Leo put in, frantic to help them. "What are their powers? What can I do?"

Phoebe gritted her teeth. "As lovely as it is to see you, it's Chris they –"

"_Where is your Whitelighter? Where is Christopher Perry?!"_ Roared a figure from the hallway, followed by a shout from one of the other sisters and the sickening crack of body on wood that had Leo's blood running cold. That was the last straw, and he leaped from behind the sofa where they'd been hiding and stormed into the hallway ready to help.

"It's Chris they want," Phoebe finished in a low mutter trying desperately to think of a plan – but when their powers were ineffectual and the only conceivable way to stop the rampage was to show the demons Chris, it severely limited their options. She didn't know who they were or what they were after, but their Whitelighter seemed to be their only lead and their only shot at stopping them. "Chris!"

* * *

Hundreds of miles beneath the ground, Chris Halliwell materialized and his guard immediately went up. Such had always been the effect of the Underworld, no matter what timeline he was in – the demons that occupied the space down there rarely changed, and it was still a matter of years before the Great Battle which had diminished their forces significantly. It had always been somewhat difficult to tell one grungy cave from another where demons were concerned, but it took him only a few seconds of surveying the area to know he was unfamiliar with it.

The other Chris had sent him on a mission to hunt down some apparently old friends of his; old friends who, as Chris had pointed out, wouldn't even be his friends yet, but apparently it was the best thing they had to go on. Why he was old friends with some demons he hadn't even bothered to ask, wanting to know less and less about this period in the lives of his parents and aunts the more time he spent there. He just wanted to get back to his own time – to his Wyatt, to Bianca. That was more important to him than the stupid inferiority complex that had brought him there in the first place, especially since it was clear the other Chris was an asshole and his envy was completely unfounded.

Not to mention it had been difficult trying to act so offhandedly towards Leo. That first moment he'd stepped out of the bathroom it had taken all his willpower not to greet him with _Dad_, which would really have royally mucked things up. The idea was to get into contact with the people Chris knew, and avoid all contact with the Charmed Ones and his father as much as possible lest he do something out of character.

It was dark, and the rock wall he'd appeared beside stretched up well over his head, and as he followed it up found the ceiling covered in a dangerous amount of precariously formed stalactites, each one threatening to fall on him and only getting more unstable as the cavern deepened behind him. Instinctively he shrunk back onto the rock face behind him and tried to be as unseen as possible, but he doubted it would have much effect. Ahead he could see a few alcoves dug into the stone as the other Chris had described, candles flickering and casting inhuman shadows across the depth of the cave and wax dripping unnaturally thick and a deeper scarlet than he'd seen on any other before.

As he crept forward towards them for further examination he heard a giggle echo into the darkness and sensed he'd come to the right place, but that didn't make it any easier. He'd been brought up in a world where negotiations with demons were almost entirely out of the question – he didn't want to hang around here for longer than he had to. About to call out a greeting to whatever presence was there with him, a cry in the corner of his mind stopped him, mouth open in silent surprise.

_"Chris!"_

It sounded like Phoebe, but it was unlike any summons he'd heard before. Ripples and echoes of it ricocheted off the corner of his mind, accentuating the blood rushing in his ears and giving her voice an almost otherworldly feel to it. It was painful for him to receive and he gasped, his hand instinctively reaching to his temple. It were as if the universe were reminding him that it wasn't his distress call to receive.

But a distress call it was, and she was still his aunt.

Abandoning all thoughts of bloodied candles and alliances that hadn't even been formed he blinked through his dizzy vision and began to orb out to the aid of whatever the sisters needed him for, when he was stopped. Two firm arms reached around his middle and squeezed and he cried out, wincing as he struggled against the vice-like grip.

They were unrelenting as he thrashed, reaching for a candle and pulling it telekinetically towards his assailant, but a slender hand from a body outside his line of vision caught it and his arms were soon clamped to his sides, a piece of fabric pulled over his head ruining his perceptions of the situation. The last thing he heard before he felt a strong fist to his gut and the pain wrenched him from consciousness was that giggle again, vibrant and ethereal against his ear.

He heaved, feeling himself slip away as she stroked a hand down the side of his covered face. "My, my, Christopher _Halliwell_. You have come a long way, haven't you?"

* * *

**I appreciate I've been throwing you a lot of curve balls, but it should all start to come together in the next few chapters I promise. ;) QUESTIONS: Who's managed to capture Chris? To what end? Anyone else wondering why poor Chris can't catch a break? As ever, I love to hear your thoughts and predictions.**

**Reviews are like making it past the front door to Dan Gordon, **

**~MyWhitelighter**


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